The Man of the Sea
by Surreysmum
Summary: Aragorn - now King Elessar - is grief-stricken. Legolas has the sea-longing. Captain Jack Sparrow is lost. Put them together - will there be fireworks? Mature slash, with A/L as the established couple.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Man of the Sea  
Author: Surreysmum  
E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com  
Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover  
Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack  
Rating: M  
Beta: the inimitable namarie120  
Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

This story is dedicated to the memory of Cathy Shepard, friend, mentor and bossy She-Elf.

I have placed the story in LOTR rather than in crossovers because (1) it really is a Middle Earth story, despite the fact that Captain Sparrow has wandered in and (2) nobody seems to read from the crossovers section.

Long author's note - please read! This story is presented in a slightly abridged and expurgated version in order to fit within the ratings guidelines of ffnet. Only the first and last chapters are affected, and no plot is lost. If you are a mature teen under 18, or if somewhat explicit descriptions of sex between male characters are not to your taste, please stick to this version. (If you are a child, or if you hate slash completely, go away now!) If you are of legal age in your place of residence, and think you would enjoy the more complete version, you can find it at my livejournal (see my profile for a link). I have only one request - if you read the LiveJournal version, please drop me a comment, if only to say that you have visited, because otherwise I have no way of knowing whether people are reading there. Thank you!

**Chapter 1**

The cry of the gulls was making Legolas' heart ache and his stomach churn, though he did his best to ignore it. After all, it was a small price to pay if this trip - ostensibly an official inspection of the local government in the port town of Edhellond - managed to break Estel out of the deep sadness in which he had been immersed for much too long now.

Legolas had been most reluctant to come along on this journey. Aragorn had argued in vain that Edhellond was once an elf-haven and he needed an Elf's understanding; Legolas had retorted that the town was now as mixed in population, humans, elves, and all other races, as any port you could imagine. The King had claimed that he needed an extra pair of keen eyes while he was caught up in all the ceremonials they would inflict upon him; Legolas had pointed out that as Consort, he would be as entrapped by the ceremonials as his King. But then Aragorn had turned weary eyes upon him and said simply, "_Meleth_, I need you." And Legolas had consented without another word.

Now as Legolas stared out of the window of the best apartment in the best inn in Edhellond, he felt arms slip around him from behind, and the well-loved voice said in his ear, "Thank you. I know this is not easy for you."

The Elf turned his back on the view of the enticing grey waters, and wrapped his own arms around his lover, touching their foreheads. "It is not so bad," he murmured. "Are you enjoying the trip?"

"Yes, for the most part," replied Aragorn. He smiled wryly. "Though I could have done without the last two and a half hours of the Lord Mayor's speech this afternoon." Legolas smiled in agreement. "Especially the part about Arwen," added Aragorn, pulling away and walking back over to the over-sumptuous bed.

Legolas watched him in silence. It was good, at least, to hear her name on his lips. Aragorn had spoken so little of his late beloved Queen. On the first anniversary of her untimely passing, just the week before, he had walked around all day with a thunderous look on his face, but sternly rebuffed all of Legolas' efforts to bring up the subject, finally walking out of the room when the Elf had the temerity to actually mention the Queen.

Aragorn wept for her only in his sleep.

Legolas turned to the window again and emphatically closed the shutters. Sitting on the bed beside his lover, he began to fiddle with the ties upon the man's shirt. "I need some distraction," he murmured to Aragorn. "You're it."

Aragorn felt a familiar surge of love, knowing full well who was really being distracted. He reciprocated eagerly in the undressing, pulling off Legolas' tunic in one fell swoop, then chuckling as he had to disentangle it from the long blond locks. His lips were drawn irresistibly to the smooth skin of the Elf's shoulder and neck.

Legolas snuggled closer into the caresses, but his hands were still busy disrobing his lord. After a lot of wriggling and some soft, amused cursing, they both finally fell naked on the bed, kissing hungrily.

_Some time later…_

"Are you all right, love?" whispered Aragorn to the drowsy Elf on the pillow. For answer, Legolas merely stretched out an arm and drew him back into his embrace.

"Sleep a bit," muttered the Elf. "More speeches to sit through tomorrow."

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 2**

Aragorn sat in conference with the Lord Mayor and the head of the port's constabulary, discussing the perennial problems of keeping the peace in a coastal town. Legolas had been freed to the more congenial duty of visiting with the Elvish merchants in gems and jewellery who plied a great deal of their trade in Edhellond.

As Aragorn's talks drew to a conclusion, with a promise from the King for a substantial sum to assist in training more constables, the conversation was interrupted by a loud, eerie cry.

"What was that?" asked the King, jumping to his feet.

The officials immediately stood with him. "Nothing at all, Your Majesty," said the Lord Mayor hastily. "I do apologize. Unfortunately, this councilroom is immediately above the town gaol, and we are occa… " His words were cut off by another howl, the unmistakable sound of a man in agony.

"It's nothing to worry about, Your Majesty," the Chief Constable assured him, "just some miscreant receiving his just deserts. It will soon cease."

"Take me down there at once," growled Aragorn.

"But sire, there is nothing to see - just an ordinary gaol…" The Lord Mayor trailed off at the expression on the King's face, and quickly opened the door leading to the lower levels.

They could have found their way through the dank corridors by the sounds of anguish alone. The Constable pushed open the door to a dark chamber just in time to see a half-naked burly man with his back to them land a vicious blow on a dimly-seen but apparently unresponsive target. "Twenty!" the man bellowed "That's it, you scum!" And he spat on the floor before turning to realize he had a well-dressed audience.

"My Lords," he said, and then, recognizing the third figure, he gasped, "Your Majesty!" and dropped to a knee. Aragorn schooled his features to reflect no emotion as he looked at the bloody mess that had been made of a man's back.

"What has he done?" he asked quietly.

The Lord Mayor looked at the Chief Constable. "Vagrancy and petty theft - pickpocketing on our streets during the speeches yesterday, your Majesty," the latter explained. "Nothing has been done amiss, sire," he babbled on as Aragorn's brow darkened even more. "He was properly tried and sentenced before the Magistrate yesterday."

"I see," responded the King. He would not undermine the man's authority before his subordinate. After all, had they not just been discussing the great difficulty of maintaining order in such a place? But he made a private resolution to have a long and stern talk with the Constable and the Magistrate on the subject of the difference between discipline and brutality. He himself had a led an entire army through an arduous campaign without ever being forced to resort to flogging his men. He sighed and looked more closely at the unconscious thief hanging by the wrists from well-worn leather straps high on the wall. His hair was oddly clumped and plaited, interwoven with small charms or tokens. And around the waistband of his breeches, which they had not bothered to remove, were several brightly-coloured scarves or kerchiefs.

"He is a foreigner?" asked the King.

"Aye, sire," replied the kneeling man. "He spoke with a most strange accent." He smiled unpleasantly and added, "Though all men scream in the same tongue." Seeing that the King did not appreciate his joke, he added hastily, "I think from his dress he is likely a pirate. There have been many of them about lately, plaguey creatures that they are."

"A pirate," mused the King. "I have had many complaints from merchants of late about piracy off these shores." He turned to the Lord Mayor. "I will retire to my apartments for a while. Do not disturb me, but have him cleaned up and sent to me there in two hours for interrogation." He drew his cloak around him as though to ward off the foulness in the room, and swept back up the stairs, followed in high consternation by the local officials.

Behind them, the guard unsympathetically doused his prisoner with a bucket of dirty water, and the man came groaning to consciousness. "Blow me down," he said under his breath, "but this is the unfriendliest town I've ever visited, or my name's not Captain Jack Sparrow."

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 3**

Aragorn dozed comfortably in his chair. There had been much distraction and little sleep the night before. He jumped awake, startled, at a courteous knock at the door.

"Your Majesty?" It was the voice of one of his own guard. Ah yes, blast it, the pirate.

"Enter."

The soldier brought in a man of middle height, manacled at the wrists. The man's bright gaze swept once around the room, then settled on the King where he sat motionless. For a moment the two men sized each other up. Then Aragorn bestirred himself, sitting up straighter. "We won't need these," he told his guard. "Take them off and wait outside."

The pirate's eyebrow rose. "You do not fear me, Your Majesty?"

"I am armed," said Aragorn comfortably, pointing out the sword at his hip. The manacles were removed and they were left alone. The pirate made an ostentatious show of shaking and rubbing his unbound wrists, all the time glancing narrow-eyed here and there. Aragorn was sure the pirate had noted at least three possible escape routes by the time his fidgeting was done.

"With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" enquired the King.

The eyebrow merely twitched this time. "Captain Jack Sparrow at your service, sire," responded the pirate. His hand went to his head, and he exclaimed, "Damme, they took my hat!" He composed himself. "A pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty," he said, bowing low. Aragorn did not miss the grimace of pain that accompanied this gesture of politeness.

"I judge by your speech that you are a visitor to this land," he continued civilly.

"Aye, sire, my ship was caught in a mighty storm three nights ago, and blown much off course. My charts do not show this place." As he spoke, Aragorn noted an intriguing flash of gold - some of his teeth appeared to be made of metal.

"You are in the port of Edhellond on the southern shore of the Kingdom of Gondor, within the realm of Middle Earth."

"I am much obliged to you for the information, sire." But Jack's expressive features suggested he was not much enlightened by it.

"Your ship - was she wrecked?"

"Nay, sire - the Pearl's a sturdy lass. She's whole and sound, and we'll be on our way as soon as I can find the means to reprovision her." His fingers rubbed together to illustrate.

"Ah, that was why you were picking pockets yesterday…" said the King, as though a great mystery had been solved. "Tell me, why did you not just steal the provisions?"

"Ever tried to slip a barrel of biscuits under your coat, Your Majesty?" grinned Sparrow, obviously relaxing in Aragorn's benign presence.

"She's nearby, the Pearl?" Jack tensed again as he seemed to realize how much he was telling this stranger, this … King.

"Close enough, Your Majesty," he said cagily. "She'll not be caught by any of your own ships, if that's what you're asking. But she'll be there for me … and so will my crew if I don't roll back in a few days."

Aragorn nodded. He stood and turned to a dish of clear water set out on the sideboard. Picking up a leaf, he crushed it and dropped it into the water.

Behind him, Jack suddenly sighed. "Ah, that's lovely," he murmured. "Reminds me of the open sea, that does - all fresh and full of the new day." He swayed on his feet.

"You'd better sit down, Captain Sparrow," said Aragorn, taking him by the arm and steering him to a chair.

"What … what is that?" Jack asked unsteadily.

"Just a local herb," said the King. "It has a pleasant scent, does it not?"

"Why is it … making … making me dizzy?"

"It's trying to heal you. As will I, if you will permit it?"

"Permit it?" asked Jack uncomprehendingly.

Aragorn eased the coat from Jack's shoulders. "Is that all right?" he asked.

Jack nodded, puzzled.

But when Aragorn reached for the buttons at the front of his shirt, and tugged at them, not understanding how they worked, Jack pushed him fumblingly away. "No," he said. "Stop. I am no whore."

Aragorn pulled his hands away immediately and crouched down to meet the pirate's eyes. "Captain Sparrow," he said. "Jack. Look at me."

Jack focused on the steel-grey eyes, and the sight was somehow calming to him.

"Do you trust me?" asked the King.

"Yes," slurred Jack after a long moment. "Damme if I know why, but I do." He looked down at his buttons, and carefully, with deliberation, undid the top one. Then he looked back at Aragorn, who nodded and followed his example with the rest. Then the King stood behind the pirate and as carefully and gently as he possibly could peeled the once-white shirt away from the wounded back. Still Jack hissed a little as blood trickled from reopened welts. Aragorn placed a warm hand on each shoulder, well away from the devastation, and softly bade him, "Sit still for a minute or two."

A great warmth, a heat near to burning, spread through Jack's back as Aragorn's hands clenched upon his shoulders, but it was a pleasant heat, a burning that Jack closed his eyes to feel the better. He could not see the face of the man behind him, but he heard Aragorn's pained gasp as the burning reached its peak and images of soft things, comforting things, whole and healthy things, flooded the pirate's fuddled brain. Without meaning to, Jack brought up a hand and placed it over one of those that held him.

Aragorn heaved a great sigh, and unclenched his grip, letting his fingers slide into and then away from Jack's in the same moment. "Better now?" he asked, and reseated himself, exhausted, in his chair.

"Aye," said Jack in astonishment, his hand reaching back to explore the smooth, whole skin. "That must have been magick - are you a witch, my lord King?"

Aragorn puzzled over the word for a moment. "I am no wizard, if that is what you mean," he replied tiredly, "though I have known one or two in my time." He smiled. "I have no magic, Jack. I am only a one-trick monarch."

"Helluva trick," Jack told him. "I thank ye most heartily, Your Majesty." He stood and retrieved his bloodied shirt, then rejected it with distaste in favour of shrugging on his jacket. "Am I free to leave, then?" he asked.

The door swung open. "Estel, you must see the glorious jewel I found for you in the town!" exclaimed Legolas. He stopped short.

"By Blackbeard's lights and liver!" exclaimed Jack. His mouth hung open.

"Jack, this is my Consort, Prince Legolas Thranduilion. 'Lasse, meet Captain Jack Sparrow."

Legolas nodded a greeting. But Jack merely muttered something inaudible, and bolted out the window.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 4**

Legolas pulled his hood over his bright hair before he entered the tavern. Though he was not likely to go unrecognized in this place frequented largely by elves, there was no point in attracting unnecessary attention. He paused inside the door, and scanned the busy tables, then, with a small sound of satisfaction, approached the bar. His quarry was here, in earnest conversation with a couple of rather disreputable looking characters in a dim corner of the room.

Sipping at his _miruvor_, Legolas took his time, making small talk with the barkeeper, who had indeed recognized him. The coastal Elf was full of questions about Gondor and the inland Elvish colonies, now sadly depleted as more and more Elves succumbed to the lure of the Undying Lands. With an ease he had learned from Aragorn, Legolas was more than happy to give the impression the barkeeper had his full attention, while keeping an eye on the far table. When two of the three rakish characters got up to leave, he excused himself politely, then silently approached the table's remaining occupant from behind.

"Well met, Captain Sparrow," he said. Jack jumped visibly, and turned.

"It's you," he muttered, and half rose to move away.

"Legolas," the Elf reminded him helpfully, and put out a hand in the Human fashion. Jack shook it as briefly as he could without outright rudeness.

"May I join you?" Legolas asked. "I have a business proposition for you."

Jack waved his hand at the opposite chair. "Business, is it?" he responded curtly.

"Yes, indeed. I have a commission I would like you to carry out. Here is my deposit on the payment." Legolas dropped a largish pouch on the table, the contents making a heavy jangle.

Jack reached over and pried open the mouth of it, his eyes widening at the sight of nothing but gold within. For a moment, he hesitated. "I don't think so," he said at last, and pushed the pouch back towards the Elf.

"I am disappointed," said Legolas, and retrieved the pouch. But instead of taking his leave, as he was so obviously desired to do, he leaned back in his chair, crossed one slender leg over the other, and asked casually, "Tell me, who is Will Turner?"

"Where in hell did you hear that name?" demanded Jack roughly.

"From you," responded Legolas, unperturbed. "Last night. Is that not the name you said?"

The noise that emerged from Jack could only be described as a growl. "I'm not obliged to discuss him with you, just because…" He bit off the sentence.

"Just because I'm 'Will Turner's fucking pointy-eared twin'?" The corner of Legolas' mouth twitched. "The pointy ears have their uses," he added. "Is he your lover, this Will Turner?"

"Dammit, you insolent whelp!" roared Jack, bringing his fist down on the table. "I'll not stand for this!" But Legolas was not intimidated, and he found it most interesting that Jack had made no move to leave, for all his anger. In his three millennia of life as an exceedingly attractive being, Legolas had learned to read Humans quite well, and he knew that look, however well it was disguised under the rage.

"Where on God's green earth would you get that notion?" asked Jack, his antagonism subsiding suddenly into sadness. He was looking off into the distance, past the Elf.

"Just an arrow at hazard," replied Legolas. "I was wrong, then?"

"Dead wrong," said Jack. "Will's a good lad, who's decided to make a decent life for himself. He lives ashore, plies an honest trade, and has a fine, spunky lass he intends to marry soon and make babies with. Could be married to her already, for all I know." He blinked hard once and brought his gaze back from the distance. "And spare me the pitying looks, young sir," he snapped irritably.

"Legolas," the Elf reminded him patiently. "And I am not here to pity or to taunt, but to ask you to do a favour - a well-paid favour - for the King of this land."

He had Jack's interest at last. "For the King, eh?" Jack drummed his fingers on the table. "And what might this well-paid favour be?"

Legolas grinned wickedly. "Kidnap him. Kidnap him and take him on your ship."

Jack barked a laugh. "You're as daft as the whelp." But Legolas merely challenged him with a glance. Jack rubbed his chin. "Me and whose army? Wouldn't his guards object just a wee bit?"

"These things can be arranged…" replied Legolas.

"And once I have your King in my clutches, why would you trust me to return him? He'd be worth a tidy ransom."

"Which I, as his Prince Consort, would be delighted to pay," Legolas assured him, dangling the pouch again. "This, as I said, is only a small deposit. We can haggle over the final sum if you desire. Just give him some solitude and sea air for a week or so."

Jack laughed again, half-delighted, half-incredulous. "It seems rather a complicated arrangement just for a sea-holiday, sir Elf," he said. "Why do you not just commandeer a ship from the King's Navy and take him yourself?"

"I wish I could," responded Legolas seriously. "Perhaps someday I will explain to you why not." The gulls were singing noisily in his head again just at the mention of the subject, and he forced them out of his thoughts. "And he will not go willingly without me. No, kidnapping is the only answer."

Jack shook his head with a grin.

"Besides," Legolas added, leaning forward conspiratorially, "I suspect he'd rather enjoy it."

Jack pounded the table again, this time in glee. "You," he crowed, "are a wicked Elf. Legolas."

Legolas acknowledged the name and the compliment with a grin of his own.

"No rough stuff, I take it," Jack went on happily.

"Give me your hand, Jack," replied Legolas, whose eyes had gone suddenly grim. The Elf's smooth slender fingers closed around the pirate's calloused hand - and squeezed. "You hurt him, and I will hurt you in double measure."

"Understood," gritted Jack through the pain.

"And Jack," added Legolas, releasing him, "you'll keep your pirate hands to yourself."

"The thought never crossed my mind," responded Jack airily, confirming Legolas' suspicions that it had. They eyed each other with great wariness for a moment.

"The amount," said Jack at last, returning to the most important question.

"Ah yes, the amount," said Legolas, relaxing.

And they settled in for a good old-fashioned haggle as Aragorn slumbered on, unsuspecting, at the inn.

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 5**

Two nights later, Aragorn slept again with the deep and contented sleep of a man whose job is done and who is going home in the morning. And as he dreamed of the sweet, free winds and the warmth of the sunshine on the uppermost terrace of Minas Tirith, he felt someone gently run a hand down his arm.

"What is it, 'Lasse?" he murmured, vaguely glad that the Elf was there in his dream.

"Wake, Your Majesty," said a voice, and it was not 'Lasse's. Aragorn sat straight up, fully awake in the instant, his heart pounding. A stranger sat next to him on the bed, a dagger gleaming by moonlight in his hand. Aragorn jumped instinctively backwards away from him.

"Steady, my Lord," said the stranger. "I am not here to harm you."

"Where is Legolas?" demanded the King. "'Lasse!" he shouted. Not taking his eyes off the intruder, he scrabbled with one hand for the sword that was always beside the bed.

"Your sword is safe, my Lord, but it is not here." It was Jack Sparrow. The pirate was in his bedroom, dagger in hand, and the King's Consort was inexplicably missing.

"Eru wither you, if you have hurt Legolas… !" Aragorn lunged recklessly at the pirate, yelling "Guards, to my aid!" as he did.

He landed a solid blow to Jack's jaw, and the pirate staggered. But he neither returned the blow nor used the dagger, and that, more than Jack's cry of "Nay, Your Majesty, enough!" brought Aragorn up short.

"Guards!" he shouted again.

Jack rubbed his jaw with one hand, brandishing the long knife with the other. "They are well out of earshot," he informed the King, wincing.

"So much the worse for you!" Aragorn shouted, and charged at Jack again. Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. He ducked low as the enraged man came at him, and slammed an elbow into his solar plexus, winding him. Sliding easily behind his prey and partially subduing his struggles with an arm, Jack at last laid the dagger carefully to Aragorn's throat.

"I wish you'd stop that," he said. "I have no mind to injure you." _No mind to lose a limb to your ferocious Elf, either_, his thoughts added. "Look, you're alone and unarmed. I have the weapons. Will you at least sit and hear me out?"

Years of schooling himself to calm in dire situations came to Aragorn's aid now. "Yes," he said tersely, drawing himself up within the pirate's grasp. "Let me go."

Jack slowly drew away his grasp, and Aragorn just as cautiously turned and perched at the edge of the bed. "Where is Legolas?" he demanded immediately.

"Legolas has gone for a walk, freely and on his own two legs," replied Jack. "He left about an hour ago. And he will meet us at the docks at dawn, if you will accompany me."

Aragorn frowned his disbelief. "And my guards?"

"Harabald has gone to visit his sister and her children in Dor-en-Ernil. And Dromion is doubtless wenching in a tavern. Legolas told each of them the other had volunteered for guard duty tonight."

"Hmmph," said Aragorn. Where had this pirate picked up information about Harabald and Dromion? He'd wager it wasn't from Legolas. "I doubt it very much, but let it pass. I would know what you want with me, pirate."

Jack slid his dagger into his sash. He was wearing a sword as well, and it bumped in its sheath as he sat down in a chair facing the King. Jack studied his fingers for a moment. Had Aragorn chosen, he could have overpowered the pirate at that instant. But Aragorn did not move.

At length, Jack looked up. "Your Elf has hired me to kidnap you and take you aboard the Black Pearl for a week's rest and sea air," he said bluntly. An odd sensation, telling the bald truth, and not one he was used to, but something told him it was the best strategy here.

Aragorn snorted. "A likely story." But he gave a small smile in the darkness. Purely by accident this half-mad villain had come up with a plot that would have been worthy of his Elf's devious mind.

"It is the unvarnished truth," insisted Jack. "He found me in a tavern two nights ago and offered me a large sum, most of it to be paid upon your safe return."

Aragorn squinted in the faint light, trying to see the man's face. "Even if I believed that for half a minute, it is not something I would consider. Legolas cannot go to sea, and of course I will not go without him."

"That, apparently, is why you have to be kidnapped." Jack shrugged.

Aragorn gave a sardonic laugh. "So I, King of Gondor, am just to be tied up and marched through the streets of the town to be sent on a sea voyage for my own good? With a foreign pirate?"

"It seemed a bit daft to me too." Jack gestured eloquently. "But no man could resist all that gold."

Aragorn tensed. "And would you commit regicide for all that gold, _pirate_?" He spoke the words softly.

Jack leaned forward so the King could see the sincerity in his face. "I will not hurt you," he said. "Not for all the gold in Africa. Not to harm you was part of the Elf's instructions, but to tell the truth, I would not have the stomach for it after …" He let the sentence trail off. The King's unexpected benevolence and gentleness a few days before had affected him more than he considered quite beseeming to admit.

Aragorn pondered the enigma before him. That he was dangerous and a habitual liar he had no doubt. That he was unpredictable and untrustworthy was certain. And he had the upper hand at the moment, though that would not last after Aragorn got a weapon into his hand. Yet, there was an annoying edge of plausibility about the pirate's story, combined with his admittedly restrained actions, that made Aragorn hesitate.

"Tell me more about this bargain you hav… you claim to have struck with Legolas," Aragorn demanded. Jack rejoiced inwardly at the slip.

"Thirty gold pieces now, five hundred more upon your safe return one week exactly from dawn tomorrow," replied Jack promptly. Aragorn raised an eyebrow; if Legolas had indeed made this bargain, he was making rather free with the Royal Treasury.

"And?"

"We sail with myself and two crew - that's the least we need to man the ship - and the rest of my crew will have some well-deserved shore leave. Except Anamaria; she won't rest anyway, so I've set her in charge of getting the long-voyage provisions. There's already enough aboard for our little trip." He looked Aragorn in the eye. "I'll not imperil my crew, Aragorn - I'm as fond of them as you are of yours."

Aragorn blinked at the familiarity; it was the first time Jack had used his name. "I wish I could believe you," he replied. "Jack." Worry about Legolas gnawed at him like a worm. Was he wasting time? Should he just attack the man, now while he was off guard? "And what were your instructions?" He was temporizing and he knew it.

"Feed you, water you, leave you to think your own thoughts, and return you on time. Failure to do any of which will result in pursuit by the entire Gondorian Navy, culminating in having my bones broken one at a time and my heart ripped through my throat by a righteously enraged Silvan Elf."

So he had been around long enough to learn the different kinds of elves. It didn't mean that Legolas had taught him. "Prove to me you're telling the truth," Aragorn said, trying to keep it from sounding like begging. If only this benign explanation could be true, and Legolas safe, he would cheerfully go along with it and save the reckoning with his presumptuous Consort till later. He would even put up with a useless, lonely week at sea.

Jack considered his fingers again. "I think I can at least prove to you I've been drinking with the Elf," he said at last. Leaning forward, he murmured, sing-song, "Minstrels may sing of the thing of the King, but it's the Elf's arrow that sets its quiver a-quiver." Even in the dim light, he could see the dull flush that overtook Aragorn's features before he covered his face.

"I can't believe he told you that terrible joke," he muttered, deeply embarrassed. But in fact he could believe it, and he had some idea why. Until now, it had been a completely private joke between them.

"All right, I'm satisfied." He pulled himself together. "Are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"This bargain. Will you go through with it? Did you get what you want?"

"Well," Jack drawled, "I did have it in mind that perhaps you and I might strike a little side-bargain, as it were."

"A-ha!" Aragorn seemed almost relieved. "I knew it! What do you want?"

"We're far from home," Jack said.

"Yes."

"And your shores, I'm told, extend for many miles in both directions."

"Yes."

"And until they find their way home, pirates must make a living somehow."

"I see."

"A little benign inaction?"

Aragorn's thoughts flitted involuntarily to the largely self-satisfied, cruel merchants who ran the town of Edhellond and others like it. Who had whined to him that his modest taxes were reducing their vast profits. Who would have a rapscallion like Jack Sparrow flogged on sight.

"No bloodshed," he said at last.

"Understood."

"I mean it.

"Yes, sire."

"A month. No more."

Jack nodded.

"We have an accord?"

"We have an accord. Do you trust me, Aragorn?"

Aragorn smiled, remembering, and quoted accurately: "Yes. Damme if I know why, but I do."

"Shall we go then?" Jack asked. "You might want to put some britches on first. And take a change of small-clothes and linen."

"A kidnapping with luggage?"

Jack shrugged and laughed. "Why not? We are rough men, who lead a rough life1, but a change of linen is always a good thing!"

Aragorn laughed with him, and threw a few clothes into a bag. He turned to find Sparrow proffering his sword-belt and sword. "It was behind the bed the whole time," the pirate confessed.

"You're a madman," said Aragorn, shaking his head, as he adjusted the welcome and familiar weight around his hips.

"So they tell me," replied Jack cheerfully. "Coming?" He opened the door.

Aragorn paused. "What, you're not going to tie me up?"

The madman took a risk, as he was wont to do. "Only if you want me to."

A slow smile curved Aragorn's lips. "Some other time, perhaps." And side by side they strode off into the darkness to meet the Elf.

_tbc_

1 Yes, Gilbert and Sullivan fans, apparently this Pirate King, er, Captain, has visited Penzance.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 6**

Dawn was just beginning to paint the harbour indistinct shades of grey as Aragorn and Jack arrived. The long empty dock Jack steered them towards seemed at first entirely deserted, and Aragorn glanced keenly at his companion, still wary of treachery.

But Jack merely nodded, saying, "There he is."

And now Aragorn could make out the slender, hooded form jammed tightly against the wooden railing at the far end of the dock. The Elf had his back to them, and as they drew closer, he reached a pale, imploring hand out to the sea, apparently oblivious to their approach.

"Right then," muttered Aragorn grimly. "We will end this farce now, I think. Will you wait for me here? I will be happy to make some compensation for your … trouble."

A flippant reply rose to Sparrow's lips, but he suppressed it in deference to Aragorn's grim face. Mistaking the cause of Jack's bitten-off remark, Aragorn added, "Our side-bargain holds, if that is what concerns you."

Jack seated himself on a nearby bench to signify his willingness to wait. As the King strode swiftly down the dock, Jack told himself he would not care to be in Legolas' boots at the moment, not for any price.

Aragorn laid a heavy hand on Legolas' shoulder, but the Elf did not start or look round. "Estel," he said in a quiet, strained voice. "I am glad you are here."

Aragorn turned him firmly around, and at the sight of the anguish - physical anguish - on the Elf's face, all the angry reproaches that had occupied his mind on the long walk from the inn simply melted to nothing. Instead, he wrapped Legolas into the folds of his own cloak, and gently brought the fair face to nestle in his shoulder.

"This place is killing you, _meleth_," he said gruffly. "We must get you away from here at once."

"I will go inland as soon as you are embarked, I promise," responded the Elf. The slight gust of his breath was much too chilly for Aragorn's liking. He ran his fingers lightly across Legolas' cheek.

"Why, _meleth_?" he asked. "What makes you so insistent on this bizarre scheme of yours? Eh? Why would you think I would agree to such a thing? Or need to be anyplace but at your side?"

Legolas wrapped his arms more tightly around his lover's broad back, and told him, "It is time to face your loss, _melethron_. You have been hiding from it too long, in your duties, in your pastimes, even in my embrace."

Aragorn's expression twisted in distaste. "I wondered if that was it. You are meddling where you should not, my Elf." He regretted it the moment he said it, but pride kept him from apologizing instantly.

Legolas faced him, and said, mildly enough, "Not *_it*_, Estel. Her name was Arwen. She was your devoted wife for forty years, and our lover for thirty-five. Her _fea_ entwined with ours; her joys and sorrows and dreams were ours also. And she is gone from us."

Aragorn stared out to sea to avoid the shining blue eyes. "I have grieved and made my peace. Leave it alone, 'Lasse."

"No you have not," said the Elf, and in his voice was the authority of his three thousand years. "Come, _meleth_. You have always said I understand you better than you do yourself. Will you not believe me now?"

"And if I will not go, regardless?"

"Then I will be thirty gold coins the poorer and the pirate will lose his commission." Legolas turned Aragorn's chin so that their gazes met. "And you will continue to cry out for her in your dreams." Aragorn bit his lip. Legolas shot his last arrow with unerring aim. "I have not ceased to grieve for Arwen either," he told his lover, "and I cannot, not until you rest peacefully. If you will not do this to ease your own pain, Estel, will you not do it for me?"

Aragorn slumped and rested his forehead against his lover's, refusing to weep. "All right," he capitulated. "All right. I will try." He controlled his voice with an effort. "But you must promise me two things."

Legolas kissed a stray wetness from Aragorn's cheek. "Yes," he said, "I will depart immediately for an inland town. I will go to the Village of Hathfell; it is not a long journey." And he added another light kiss, this time to Aragorn's lips. "And I will be waiting there, arms open, for the moment you are released from your terrible captivity." Aragorn chuckled damply.

"It might not be as bad as all that," Legolas went on, to make him smile some more. "Sun, sea air, and of course, that rather intriguing man of the sea to puzzle out."

"You find him intriguing, do you?" teased Aragorn, still buried in his arms.

"Of course, just as much as you do," responded Legolas. "All those surfaces, those scars, those decorations. And underneath?" He whispered breathily in Aragorn's ear, "Perhaps you should kidnap him in his turn; bring him back with you so we can puzzle him out some more…"

Aragorn framed his elf's face between his hands - the one work of art he could never tire of gazing at. On it was a smile of pure affection, tinged with just a little naughtiness. Aragorn mirrored the smile. "It has been a long while, has it not, since we did something like that…" he mused. He ran his fingers once, teasingly, over the tips of the elf's ears. "I will see what I can do."

"No starting without me," said Legolas, with a mocking frown.

"Tyrant!" responded Aragorn cheerfully. "Eru, 'Lasse, I will miss you so much…" Their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss that shut out all the world.

And thirty yards away, watching intently from his bench as the rising sun illuminated the lovers, Jack Sparrow wore an expression of unguarded loneliness and yearning that would have shocked anyone who knew him.

--------------

"Well, Jack, it seems I'm to be kidnapped after all!" said Aragorn, sparing the pirate a smile though his eyes followed the retreating back of his lover until he had completely disappeared into the town.

"Ah, that's the ticket, Your Majesty! You'll have a grand time in my custody, just you wait and see! And look, my lovely Pearl has arrived right on time."

Aragorn's breath caught as he saw the great ship, black sails bellied with the morning breeze, sailing noiselessly and majestically into the harbour. "She's glorious, Jack!" he said sincerely. Jack beamed.

It took only a few minutes to row out to the Pearl, and a few moments of commotion for the shorebound crew to scramble into their boats. Meanwhile, Aragorn discovered that he could still climb, though he was a little out of practice and a little out of breath by the time he reached the top of the rope ladder up the high sides of the ship. A hearty, sun-bronzed man yanked him unceremoniously on to the deck, then turned to perform the same service for his Captain.

"Are we ready then, Gibbs?"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n."

"Then haul down the crossbones, and run up that new flag I gave ye!"

Standing in the sunshine on the Black Pearl's gently heaving deck, Aragorn laughed aloud as he saw the White Tree of Gondor appear, flapping cheerily atop the mast.

Captain Jack Sparrow doffed his elaborate new hat, and performed an even more elaborate bow. "Welcome, King Elessar, to the Black Pearl, Flagship of Gondor!"

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 7**

"Nay, you are supercargo on this ship, not crew," said Jack firmly when Aragorn asked how he could help getting the ship underway. "The lads and I will manage fine, especially with weather like this."

"Indeed? What cargo am I supervising, then?" laughed Aragorn.

"Yerself," replied Jack with a grin, and that was that.

So Aragorn stationed himself at the rail on the high poop deck, out of the way of swinging booms and rattling tackle, and watched the land - *his* land - slip away from them as they made way out of the harbour. At length the shouts of the men died down, to be replaced only by the occasional cry of a gull and the creak of the Pearl as she found her rocking rhythm with her lover, the sea. Jack appeared at Aragorn's side.

"What does supercargo do to pass the time on a voyage like this?" asked the King.

"Ye're doin' it," grinned Jack. "Ye can look at the sea from the prow; ye can look at the sea from the stern. Ye can join me at the helm if ye like, and we'll look at the sea from there. Or, if ye're feeling full o' beans, ye can always shinny up the rig to one of the crow's nests and look at the sea from up there."

Aragorn followed Jack's gaze up to the tiny perch atop the mainmast. "I will need a day or two to work up to that," he conceded, smiling.

"Come, I'll show you your quarters," Jack went on. Aragorn picked up his gear and they went below. The cabin was roomier than he had expected; he could almost stand upright, and it took three full steps to cross it from side to side.

Aragorn knelt on the narrow bunk and investigated the small porthole. "For looking at the sea," he joked.

Jack clapped him cheerfully on the shoulder. "Fast learner. I like that." He stepped over to what looked like a closet door, and opened it on a small compartment with a gaping hole to the booming sea below. "Only this and the captain's cabin have their own arrangements," he told the King. "Not comfortable nor safe in rough weather, I'm sorry to say - but better than using the head of the ship like the crew." Aragorn nodded gravely. He'd dealt with much worse in his time.

"Captain's quarters are this way," said Jack, continuing his tour to the largest and best-appointed cabin on the ship.

"Very fine indeed," said Aragorn appreciatively, taking in the large mahogany table at the centre of the room, the light streaming in through the stern windows, and the brass fittings.

Jack seated himself comfortably and crossed his boots on the table. "Gibbs and I often take a turn at cards of an evening," he told Aragorn. "Ye're welcome to join us. We've grown to know each other's yarns so well we can recite them back t'each other."

"Ah well, then, I may have a few new ones for you," replied Aragorn easily, wondering if Jack had ever seen a walking tree or an Oliphaunt. Quite possibly. He hadn't seemed terribly startled by the variety of beings he had seen in Edhellond - well, except for one. And 'Lasse had explained that rather interesting reaction. Aragorn was determined to learn a lot more about this Will Turner person before the week was out. "After sundown, then?"

"Aye, that would do fine."

"What about food?"

"Help yourself when you're hungry. Cotton keeps a pot of some sort of stew going in the galley all day, and there's clean water and biscuits. The biscuits are good - no worms in them yet!"

Aragorn gave an exaggerated shudder, making Jack chortle. The pirate gestured to a nearby chair. "Take a seat," he offered. "Unless you've something else more urgent to do." As Aragorn sat himself down, Jack sighed and added, "I wish you could see the Pearl at full strength; fully manned she's as bustling and cheerful as a little town. She's like a ghost ship at the moment." He got up and rummaged in the big chest, bringing out a pipe and a wallet of tobacco. "And the Black Pearl has had enough of being a ghost ship."

"I sense a yarn coming on."

"Aye, but it's a long one. It'll do for the first bottle tonight. Do ye smoke?"

"Now and again. Didn't bring my pipe, though."

"I have an extra." He pulled another out and brought it over. "Ever tried Virginia tobacco?"

Aragorn picked up the wallet and sniffed it with interest. "Not unlike the pipeweed of the Shire," he pronounced. "Where is Virginia?"

"It's out West, in the New World," Jack told him. "Men cultivate a lot of tobacco there now."

"Men live in the West?" Aragorn asked incredulously.

Jack sighed. "They live to the West of the place I'm from," he said at last. "T' tell ye the truth, that storm blew us more off course than I can fathom." He gave Aragorn a wry half-smile. "The stars are wrong," he said. "I recognize most of them, but they're … just wrong." He packed both pipes with tobacco, then handed one to Aragorn.

"Do not despair," replied the King. "I have skilled cartographers and astronomers at my court. We will get you home one way or another, Jack." He smiled with more confidence than he felt. As far as he had travelled, even to southern places where many new stars appeared on the horizon, he had never met anyone like Jack.

Jack struck his tinder and steadied Aragorn's hand with his own around the pipe bowl as he applied the spark to the tobacco. Aragorn sucked the small conflagration into being with relish then leaned back and let out a cloud of fragrant smoke with his sigh of satisfaction. "Thank you, friend."

"Ye're welcome," replied the pirate around his own puffs. He sat again, and there were shortly two pairs of crossed boots amicably sharing the table as the air grew cloudy and meditative.

"The Elf said you'd been in the wars together," Jack ventured at last.

"Aye," replied Aragorn. "It was a bitter struggle. A long time ago now, though."

"I'm always up for a good fightin' story."

"Maybe that'll be for the second bottle, then," said Aragorn with a smile. "It's a long one too."

"Was that when you and Legolas first … met?" asked Jack curiously.

Aragorn grinned a little wickedly through the smoke at Jack. "Nay, but it was when we first … came to know each other well," he replied.

"Ah," was all the response Jack vouchsafed. He pursed his lips and blew a perfect smoke ring into the air.

Not to be outdone, Aragorn drew deeply on his pipe, then launched an equally perfect smoke ring of his own. The two men watched in companionable silence as the smoke rings drifted through the air, shifting and dissolving as they met above the centre of the table.

"They say ye were married as well?" went on Jack, probing, just for the devilry of it.

A bucket of cold water dumped on his head would have had less effect on Aragorn's complacent mood. "Aye," he replied, bringing his feet to floor and laying the pipe aside. "My lady wife passed away from sudden illness last year." His tone had become clipped. "I think I will go on deck for a while, if you will excuse me."

He pulled himself to his feet, but not more quickly than his companion. "I'm truly sorry," said Jack, making a curious little prayerful gesture, hands joined. "I had no thought to distress you."

"Not at all," said Aragorn regally. "I am not distressed in the slightest. I merely wish to get some air."

"Take the pipe, then," said Jack genially, holding it out. Aragorn looked a little abashed at the pirate's undiminished friendliness and took it from him. "Go on," urged Jack, patting him cheerfully on the arm. "Get some air and have a good look at the sea."

"Aye, Cap'n," responded Aragorn, unbending in spite of himself. "Till sundown, then." He started up to the deck.

"Anything you need, just whistle for me or Gibbs. Or Cotton's parrot!" Jack's shout followed him up to the deck, and Aragorn caught himself smiling again. This week of exile wasn't going to be so bad after all.

In the end, Aragorn didn't look at the sea. He found a pile of spare sail in a sunny nook on the poop deck, and, stretching out at length, occupied himself with looking at the sky instead, musing on the shapes of the clouds and the swoop of the gulls past the Pearl's three tall masts. Eyes drifting closed, he let the warmth of the sun on his face carry his mind away to other sunny days: days with 'Lasse and Arwen and the children in Minas Tirith, days with only little, ordinary troubles and the warm, contented sound of his family's voices telling each other of the day's doings. He could see 'Lasse's proud face as Eldarion won his first laurel wreath in archery, and hear Arwen's sweet hum as she soothed the girls to sleep every night. He saw her smiling the naughty little smile she kept only for him and for the Elf; he heard her pure, clear laughter - never mocking - when she discovered he had gone miles out of his way to find the perfect gift for her naming day, or had stayed up half the night to help the perfectly competent stable-master with an ailing steed. "You see, 'Lasse," Aragorn told him in his mind. "You were wrong. I think of her without pain. Everything is perfectly all right. You need not worry so much." And he slid gently into slumber.

*******

Day was drawing to a close by the time Legolas finally escaped the over-solicitous innkeeper at Hathfell, not to mention his wide-eyed, eager daughter, who had managed at least three times to find an excuse to touch Legolas' hair. He looked around at his comfortable room and sighed with relief. Weary though he was, the constant pounding of the sea within his head had given way to a mere ache, and he gave thanks to the Valar for his release from the torture. He bolted the door and closed the shutters, bringing the room into near darkness, then settled himself into a large armchair and sought the stillness within his _fea_. It was not his nightly reverie into which he fell, but something more open, more outward: an invitation.

Eventually the dimness at the far side of the room began to shimmer with an unformed pale shape. Legolas made himself continue to breathe calmly as the shape began to assume more familiar contours, though it never became completely solid.

"Have you done what I told you then, Elf?" demanded the well-known raspy voice.

Legolas bowed and essayed an apprehensive smile for the apparition. "Yes, Mithrandir. I have."

_tbc  
_


	8. Chapter 8

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 8**

"And… and! The very best part of it was when we were finally out to sea, two of the sea-turtles let me stand on their backs and a great big one pulled us all along by two bits of seaweed in my hands!" Jack waved said hands in illustration, and Gibbs rolled his eyes in genial disbelief, as he had done dozens of times before.

The third bottle was nearly a dead soldier. Gibbs measured out the remainder with exaggerated care.

"Must have been a sight to see!" responded Aragorn, delightedly encouraging Jack from behind his pipe. "How fast were you going?"

"Fast as lightning! You could see the wake for miles around!"

"Truth, now?"

"As I live and breathe, Agar … Aragorn. Hell of a mouthful you've got for a name there, luv! Don't you have an easier one for your mates?"

Aragorn grinned. He had plenty of names, but most of them were mouthfuls, he had to admit. He wasn't going to suggest "Estel" - that belonged to 'Lasse and … no, just to 'Lasse. "How about Strider?" he suggested. "That's what the hobbits used to call me."

"Strider. Aye, that suits you," Jack declared. "What's a hobbit again?"

"Weren't you listening? The short ones with the hairy feet."

"You've got an imagination, I'll say that for you, Strider. I've never yet seen a pygmy with hairy feet."

"Well, they don't venture much out of the Shire, it's true."

"Is that inland?"

"Aye, a long way."

"That would explain it then. I'm not an inland man." The big clock on the mantel interjected with a peal of bells. Jack hauled himself to his feet. "Got to check the heading afore Cotton stands down from the helm and we tie her off for the night," he explained for the benefit of the landlubber. He winked. "I promised the parrot."

Gibbs yawned widely. "I'm for me bunk, then," he said. "All these extra duties are wearin' me out."

Aragorn smirked tipsily in his beard. Gibbs' extra duties on this trip had consisted mostly of long naps in shady corners, as far as he could see. "Till the morrow, then, Joshamee," he said, and followed the other two out of the captain's quarters.

Rejecting his Elfless bunk for the moment, Aragorn clambered topside to get some air for his fuzzy head. It was a pleasant night with a strong breeze whisking the clouds away from a pale crescent moon. Everything seemed slightly more itself, more familiar but at the same time more distant, in his rum-soaked state. Automatically he named to himself the stars he knew, and as he turned to the western sky, he easily picked out Earendil, ancient mariner and evening star, grandfather of his late wife and inspiration for her name, dipping its light rapidly towards the horizon.

The sorrow crashed over him like an unexpected wave. "Arwen…" he whispered, as the Evenstar slipped away from him again, yet again. Knowing himself alone, he let himself drop to his knees and rested his head against the hard rail as the sobs rose and nearly choked him. The pain washed through every part of him, and small inarticulate moans that he barely recognized as his own came shuddering from his lips. And under it all roiled a grim satisfaction, a black relief that the moment was finally come. Aragorn drooped his head further, stopped thinking, and let himself drown in grief for his lost lady.

At the wheel, Jack unobtrusively shifted the Pearl's course closer into the wind, that the flutter and flap of her sails might cover any self-consciousness the sobbing King might feel. She was sometimes a surprisingly tactful lass, the Pearl.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It was nearing noon when Aragorn brought a sour face and a nasty head topside the next day. He had slept only fitfully, and then spent nigh on two hours exploring the Pearl belowdecks. Impressive though she was under full sail, the Pearl was but a small ship, built for speed and maneuverability. Nonetheless, she carried well more than her fair share of armaments, and the sight of those ranges of cannon, now innocuously lashed in place behind their covered ports, had given Aragorn serious pause. Jack was a charming rogue, there was no doubt about that, but a confirmed criminal nonetheless, and one who had no doubt shed blood for gain. It offended every shred of rational sense Aragorn owned that he could trust and even like such a man - and yet, somehow, he could not seem to help doing just that. As he stationed himself for some more sea-watching near the prow, Aragorn sighed and threw the whole matter back into the laps of the Valar. There were some mysteries a man just couldn't be expected to work out with the sun searing his eyes and his head three times its normal size.

"Hair of the dog?"

Aragorn took the proffered flask with a smile in spite of himself. Some of Jack's more obscure sayings perplexed him, but he understood that one well enough. He took a healthy swig and handed the flask back to its owner. "Ta, mate," he responded, enjoying Jack's mild surprise at the lingo.

Jack took a swig for himself and proffered the flask again, but Aragorn waved it away. They stood side by side watching the sun flashing over-bright from the slight swell as the ship ploughed her way through.

"Nice day," Jack eventually offered, non-committally.

"Aye, I suppose so."

There was more silence.

"Sleep well?"

"Just fine, thanks."

More silence.

"Aye, well then," said Jack at length, scratching his head. "Gibbsie & I will be on the fo'c's'le mending shrouds, if ye need us."

Aragorn turned sharply to him, shock on his face at what could only be a cruel joke.

"They're the ropes that hold up the masts, Strider," explained Jack quickly, divining what had upset him. "We snapped a couple of them in the storm."

"Oh." Aragorn turned his face back to the sea, embarrassed.

Jack gave him a friendly pat on the back. "I'll let ye be for a bit."

"It's so bloody meaningless," Aragorn told the horizon.

Jack hesitated, then stepped back close. "What is, luv?"

"Look at it!" Aragorn's gesture encompassed the sea. "Always boiling away, never still, goes on forever - and not a scrap of sense to any of it! You can't see an inch below the surface!"

"Aye, the sea is chary about giving up its secrets," responded Jack carefully, trying to match Aragorn's course through his troubled thoughts.

"I think maybe there are no secrets," replied Aragorn bitterly. "It's all just chaos. If there's a wave rises up and kills you, it's just because there was a wave there, that's all."

"Do we have to know if there's a reason?" asked Jack, thinking he understood. "Is it not enough to get where we're going, in our ship, travelling across the top of it? Mebbe it's better not to know all that lies below; life's short enough as it is…"

"Oh, you're a philosopher-pirate, are you?" snapped Aragorn contemptuously, and, Jack thought, most unfairly. If he'd known Strider a bit better, he'd have pouted and swaggered off to laugh him out of it. As it was, he was feeling - and he'd only admit it to himself for the tiniest second - just a wee bit inadequate.

"You're missing that Elf of yours somethin' awful, aren't you, Strider?"

"Aye," replied Aragorn tersely.

Jack nodded and made to move away. But Aragorn reached out and caught his forearm. "Nay, Jack, I am sorry. Will you stay? Contemplate the chaos with me for a bit?"

//Any port in a storm//, thought Jack with a tinge of bitterness, but he let himself be pulled closer and didn't object when Aragorn, still facing out across the sea, wrapped a tentative arm about his shoulders. Jack reciprocated with a studiously comradely arm across the back.

After a few minutes of Strider contemplating the sea, and Jack contemplating Strider, the pirate's patience had its reward. Aragorn heaved a large sigh, closed his eyes briefly, then turned to look Jack full in the face, clasping him by both shoulders and planting a chaste kiss on his forehead. "Thank you," he said. "You're a good man, Jack Sparrow."

"Shush, don't go tarnishin' my reputation," responded Jack automatically, gently disengaging himself. "Come on; I'm told Cotton's stew is half-way edible today." He tugged Aragorn's sleeve in the direction of the galley. "And if you want to make yourself useful this afternoon, we've got some bloody great rents in the mizzen topsail to sew up - are you any good with a needle?"

As it turned out, Strider was a dab hand at the needle, though no one sewed a quicker or neater seam than Jack. And the fo'c's'le rang all afternoon with laughter, sea shanties, and Shire pub songs. Aragorn slept much better that night.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"If ye're going to do it," Jack's voice informed him from below, "today would be the day. We're becalmed."

Aragorn grinned down at him, feeling like a naughty schoolboy caught in a prank. "Just practising," he said from his precarious position in the rigging. "I'm still not sure I can make it all the way up."

"Only one way to find out! Race ye to the top!" Aragorn watched in awe as Jack scrambled monkey-like half way up the mainmast in mere seconds; then he turned his attention back to his own laborious ascent up and around the drooping sails on the slightly shorter foremast. There was the swishing sound of a rope near his head, and the line on which he balanced swung precariously for a moment under the impact of another body. Jack's face grinned at him from a few inches away. "Hope I didn't startle you, luv," he said. "Decided to join you on your climb."

Thereafter the upward clamber became decidedly easier as Jack pointed out holds and gave him the occasional boost, and they found themselves in the forward crow's-nest before Aragorn could think again about how high above the deck they really were. He gripped the rail firmly and turned to appreciate the hugeness of the vista around him. One aspect of the horizon was faintly misted green and grey.

"Aye," said Jack. "Gondor still, if those charts your Elf provided are right. 'Tis a large Kingdom, Yer Majesty."

"I really am, you know," said Aragorn after a second or two.

Jack quirked an eyebrow.

"A King. Who is followed and obeyed by his people."

Jack frowned. "Never doubted it for a minute."

"Are you sure, Captain Sparrow? The 'Your Majesty' sounds a little insincere, I'm sorry to say."

Jack looked hurt. "Story of my life, luv. It's my unfortunate manner, that's all."

Aragorn tapped the rail with his fingernails. "I see." He seemed about to add something, but he stopped.

"What?"

Aragorn was feeling secure enough on the tiny platform now to let go and turn to face the pirate. His smile was wry. "I'm thinking this lese-majeste (1) - this studied disrespect -of yours might be because you find me weak. Soft. Easily bossed around by elves."

Jack laughed. "Nay, Strider, my _lèse-majesté"_ (he pronounced it in perfect French) "is because I'm given to _lèse-majesté_, that's all. Pirate, y'know." He moved closer, which was quite a feat in that already crowded enclosure. "Besides, one captain to another," he said confidentially, "I've never believed in trying to steer the ship all by your ownsome all the time. If ye've got a good first mate, it's a fine idea to give him the wheel sometimes. That way, you don't exhaust yourself and run everybody on to the rocks." His face was earnest and so near that Aragorn could feel the warm breath skimming pleasantly across his cheek.

The Pearl lurched suddenly, and both men made a quick grab for the rails. "Easy, girl!" said Jack reprovingly. "Jealous witch," he added affectionately under his breath.

Aragorn gave an incredulous laugh. "The Pearl disapproves of your flirting, does she?"

"Flirting?" Jack's eyes were big, round and mocking, and his hand had somehow insinuated itself around Aragorn's waist where they stood. It was just as well, too, for the mast rocked violently once again, and Aragorn briefly lost his balance.

"That's enough, Pearl!" Jack rapped out, as he guided Aragorn down to sit on the floor of the nest, knees tucked up under his chin, and then took up a similar position across from him. It was possible if you didn't worry too much about where everybody's feet and legs ended up. Jack sighed. "Aye, she really does have her opinions, I'm afraid. She's only ever been able to abide me thinkin' of one man, and she's barely met 'im … oh well."

"That would be Will? Tell me more about him, Jack."

Jack shrugged. "I told you the whole story the other night."

"What about *him*, though? What's he like?"

Jack shot him a why-should-you-care look, but merely said, "What do you want to know?"

"Well, what he looks like, for a start."

Jack snorted. "Thought you knew _*that*_. He's a twin to your elf. Same face, same voice… just imagine him with brown curly hair and round ears. And a bit o' face fuzz 'coz he thinks it makes him look older, silly blighter." The insult was soft and fond.

"He's a brave lad, from what you told me."

"Aye," nodded Jack. "Brave and clever both. And much too honest for his own good. And strong; you'd never think how strong to look at him."

"Steel under the silk," mused Aragorn.

Jack looked at him sharply. "Aye, they're a lot alike, I should think. Much of an age, too, probably."

Aragorn smiled. "I doubt that. Legolas has always been a bit coy about his age, but as nearly as I can count it up, he was born more than three thousand years ago."

Jack closed his jaw with a visible effort. "Oh aye?" he muttered weakly.

"Aye. So there's not much he hasn't seen, nor much that can shock him. And not much that can get in his way when he decides he wants something."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "What does he want?"

The man was no fool, that was certain. "You. In our bed when we get back."

"Oh." Jack blinked. "And you - what do you want?"

"I'm not averse to the idea. Not at all." He wiggled his toes for confirmation against the firm buttocks they were wedged beneath. The ship rocked and groaned in her belly, but they both ignored her.

Jack pursed his lips and sought his answer in his rope-grimed hands. "I've never been one to turn away a bit o' harmless pleasure," he said at last. He looked up. "But the answer is no."

For a second, Aragorn seemed taken aback, looking away and rubbing unconsciously at his ear. Then he smiled sweetly at Jack, shrugged, and said, "All right."

"All right? That's it?"

"You want to be wooed?"

Jack shook his head.

"All right, then. The answer is no." He shifted slightly. "You were telling me about Will."

"Don't think there's aught else t'tell."

"Something must have happened, that he's not with you."

"Why would you think that? He loves the lass, that's all."

"The Pearl obviously doesn't think so."

Jack shot him a glare. Aragorn waited.

"It was in Tortuga," said Jack, giving in. "You remember we'd commandeered the _Interceptor_, just the two of us, to get there. And on the way - well, I've never been in the habit of being shy, y'understand?"

"And he wasn't interested?"

"Oh, he was interested, all right. Confused as hell and full of pious reasons why we shouldn't, but he was gettin' right bold with his hands by the time we got to Tortuga. I never should've let him out of my sight in that damned town." He shook his head disgustedly.

"One hour," he went on. "Just one hour I spent with the ladies, makin' up for old promises broken. And having a few drinks for old times' sake. And then I'm rambling back to the docks, and I turn the corner, and there he is - my brave, strong, silly lad, with his shirt torn and his breeches half off, and a great brute dead at his feet with Will's sword still stickin' out of his chest."

Aragorn put a hand over Jack's in silent sympathy. "He was in shock, o' course," Jack continued. "First man he ever killed. I hustled him back to the ship to be safe, and he spent the next week puttin' on a brave face for the crew in the day, and seeking out quiet places at night to weep. And though he'd take my back in a second in a fight, he wasn't having me at his side for a meal, let alone a cuddle. Downright skittish he became, and if I so much as looked at him sideways, it was 'Elizabeth' this, 'Elizabeth' that. She was the reason we were on this madcap trip; she was what made sense to him." Jack shrugged. "So I yielded to the inevitable. I encouraged them. And tho' I think he'll never quite get rid of the pirate in his bones, he's probably better off."

"And if there's a pirate in his heart too?" Aragorn asked quietly.

Jack shook his head. "There's some things it's best just not to wish for, Strider," he said sadly. And before Aragorn could react, Jack was on the rigging and half-way down to the deck.

Aragorn leaned his elbows on the rail and looked past the gleaming water at the shimmering grey-green line that was his home. "What do you think, 'Lasse?" he asked. "Can we persuade him to try again?" But the great chaos gave him no answer.

_tbc_

(1) Aragorn here uses a Westron phrase similar to one in use in mediaeval England, which means, roughly, undermining the authority of the sovereign. Jack, apparently, recognizes the parallel French version from his own place and time, perhaps to Aragorn's surprise. More grist for the mill for those scholars who find curious parallels between the languages in Middle Earth and those of our own history! 


	9. Chapter 9

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 9**

It was a stifling hot evening. In the absence of even the slightest breeze, the flat sea had taken on an oily sheen that reflected the last of the setting sun's rays in eerie shades of orange.

Aragorn stood in the place that in a few short days he had come to think of as his, gazing out across the aftmost rail at the unshifting water. The Pearl was steady beneath his feet as he pulled off the mithril chain he always wore, and carefully removed the elaborate, elongated star that hung from it, leaving behind the elegant green-enameled leaf that had kept it company. With a brief caress of the fingertip to the leaf, he slipped the chain back over his head, and then cradled the Evenstar carefully in both palms to contemplate it.

As memories hurtled pell-mell through his mind, his face gradually took on a grimmer and grimmer aspect, though he did not realize it. Eventually, he shifted the pendant into a single fist and slowly extended that fist above the opaque sea far below.

A browned hand closed firmly over his. "Nay, Strider, not in anger," said Jack.

"Do not interfere with what you do not understand," Aragorn replied sharply, but he did not drop the Evenstar. Instead he brought it back to himself in a clutch so tight that the metal bit deep into his palm.

Jack was not intimidated. "Do you deny you are angry, then?"

"You know nothing about it, Sparrow, so spare me your impertinence."

"I know what it is to be furious when a loved one abandons you, whether by their own will or not."

"That is not rational."

"So you cannot possibly be angry with your late wife," replied Jack sarcastically.

Aragorn suddenly became aware of the sharp pain of the metal in his hand. He relaxed his grip and placed the Evenstar carefully in his pouch.

"Yes, all right, I am angry with her, I admit it," he said in a low voice. "And leaving me is only the start of it. Let me be, Jack."

"Nay, Strider, you sound as though you need a confessor. A priest. That means…"

"I know what a priest is. I have visited the temples of Far Harad. Do you propose to sacrifice me on the altar of the Snake God, then?" Despite himself, there was a spark of humour back in Aragorn's eyes. It was impossible to be surly with Jack for long, pest though he was.

"Ah, the kind of priest I'm thinking of does nothing so painful, though there are those who say that their temples have their fair share of snakes." Jack shifted so he could look Aragorn full in the eye. "Nay, 'tis a simple rite - I have conducted it many times. You tell me what is worrying your conscience; I give you some small punishment - a penance, they call it - so that you can demonstrate that you are truly sorry, and you will feel much, much better. My word on it, Your Majesty." As he spoke, Jack's voice had taken on curious sing-song, unctuous tones, and his hands were folded before him. Aragorn could see he had indeed played this role before.

"Very well, Jack, I will play," he answered, a little curious. "How do we start this rite of yours?"

"You say, 'Bless me Father for I have sinned,'" Jack told him.

"Father!" Aragorn laughed aloud.

"Just say the words, Strider!"

"Oh, very well. Bless me Father for I have sinned. Now what?"

"Now you tell me your faults."

"What, all of them?" Aragorn was still laughing. "Where do I begin?"

Jack caught his glance challengingly. "Why don't you start with your irrational anger against your lady wife?"

Aragorn sobered suddenly. Hooking himself on to the rail alongside Jack to avoid that too-perceptive gaze, he asked, "How much did 'Lasse tell you about us?"

"Not much. Only that the three of you were joined in a rather unconventional arrangement which was nonetheless whole-heartedly accepted by your subjects. And that Queen Arwen suddenly took ill and died a year ago."

"Suddenly," repeated Aragorn bitterly. "In the space between evening meal and sundown. A little complaint, as we sat down to eat, of how her leg had been paining her lately, and by nightfall …" His voice trailed off as he remembered the pain of that dreadful day. "By nightfall," he resumed determinedly, "we were all standing in shock around her lifeless body in the Houses of Healing. And it was a bitter death; struggling, coughing, gasping for breath and begging for surcease from the terrible agony in her chest. I have never known whether to thank the Valar that the children were all there with her at the end, or curse that they were forced to see that."(1)

He slammed a fist angrily into the Pearl's solid side. "That I ever had the gall to think myself a healer!"

"But you are - I know that first-hand. And no healer can expect always to cheat death, not even the greatest."

Aragorn sighed and turned away from the hand extended in comfort. "You don't understand. I am directly responsible for her death."

Jack paused. "No, I don't understand."

"Arwen was born Peredhel. Half-elven. There are very few, and they were given a choice by the Valar - a choice to live as Elves, until the end of the World, or to live and die as mortals. Arwen chose mortality. Because of me. If it were not for me, she would be alive today - it is as simple as that."

Jack's hand found Aragorn's shoulder, and its comfort belied the sharpness of his next question. "And you forced her ruthlessly into that decision, is that right?"

"No, of course not." Indignation fought its way through the despair. "I tried my best to dissuade her. And of course we both believed that she would outlive me, perhaps by a very long time, given that she was still so much Elven."

"Ah, you must be very sure, then, that her decision would have been different had she known your Valar would take her early from you."

Aragorn took a sharp breath at that thought. "I … no, I do not know what she would have decided. She would have made up her own mind, of that I am sure."

Jack pushed Aragorn gently round to face him, hand still on his shoulder. "Forgive me for saying so, Strider, but I think you do your lady a disservice and a discourtesy in denying her wisdom in making her own decisions. And in trying to take responsibility for a fate that was never yours to decide."

Aragorn sighed and half-smiled. "You don't know Gandalf by any chance?"

"Never had the pleasure. He's the wizard you told me about, right?"

"You sounded just like him there. It made me realize how much I miss his counsel."

"Oh aye. And what would he have said if you had told him of your anger and despair at not being able to save the Queen?"

Aragorn looked a little chastened. "That I was being disrespectful to the Valar and taking too much upon myself, probably."

Jack shrugged and widened his eyes, silently suggesting it was worth considering. And then he stood himself up straight, folded his hands before him, and pronounced. "Right then, if I have understood you correctly, you're a proud, grieving, angry, guilty man with a bad habit of feeling responsible for everything and everybody. Which makes you no more than human, and probably a damned good King." He pulled the unresisting Aragorn into a tight hug and whispered in his ear, "_Absolvo te_." Letting him go just as suddenly, he wrinkled his nose in the way that was so purely his, and added, "That's it. Ye're done. Feel any better?"

Aragorn rested himself back on his elbows, noticing for the first time that there was a soft breeze and the Pearl was bobbing slightly. "Aye," he said consideringly. "I do, a bit." He smiled broadly at Jack. "What about the punishment?"

"Oh, I forgot that bit," said Jack. He had indeed forgotten, but he was never one to pass up an opportune moment. "Yer penance, Milord, is to lower yourself to give this pirate a kiss. A proper one, mind."

Jack had long since decided that this man would never do things by halves, but that did not prepare him for the frankly predatory grin that spread over Aragorn's face, nor the strength of the grasp at Jack's neck and back, nor indeed the uncompromising push of lips and tongue until he opened his mouth, willingly enough, and let Aragorn plunder as he would. All too soon, to Jack's mind, he was released, and he was only vaguely aware of Aragorn's enjoyment at having reduced him to gasping like a silly fish.

"Ah yes, you were right. I feel much better," said the King smugly as Jack struggled to regain his sangfroid.

"Happy to be of service, Yer Majesty," Jack managed.

"Is the answer still no?"

Jack dug his teeth into a newly-sensitized lip. "Still no," he confirmed regretfully.

Once again, Aragorn did not ask why. "I must work on my kissing, I see," he replied lightly.

"Not a _damned_ thing wrong with your kissing," said Jack with rueful emphasis. "Joining Gibbs & me for cards tonight?"

"Just let me get my pipe."

(1) Arwen appears to have had a sudden and calamitous pulmonary embolism, likely caused by a deep vein thrombosis in her sore leg.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"You know," said Legolas to the insubstantial wizard sitting across the table from him, "it is most disconcerting to see you smoking away, and yet smell nothing."

"Hmmph," grunted Gandalf, and made some obscure signs with his hand. "There - that better?" The air filled with the acrid smell of burning pipeweed.

Legolas made a grimace of distaste. "I should be careful what I ask."

Gandalf chortled into his beard. "Aragorn doesn't smoke any more?"

"Not much, I am glad to say." He sighed. "I am grateful for your companionship, Mithrandir, even though I am not sure why you are giving it to me."

"Well, a change of scenery is nice now and again," opined the wizard. "Valinor's a lovely place, but I enjoyed my wandering days, you know."

"And the Valar do not miss your company?"

Gandalf's bushy eyebrows twitched, but he did not seem to take offence. "Come come now, m'boy, you know there are things I'm not permitted to talk of."

Legolas gazed at him beseechingly. "Are you permitted to tell me of Estel?" he asked. "I miss him so… I would know how he fares."

"Peace, Elf Prince," replied Gandalf reassuringly. "His adventures are nearly over and he will be back with you soon. And I think you will find he has a lighter heart. He is working now on your commission." The great eyebrows twitched again, amused.

Legolas looked alarmed. "You know of that?"

Gandalf chuckled happily. "Valinor is well apprised of everything that happens in royal circles." This answer was apparently less than comforting to the Elf. Gandalf leaned forward to him, and though they could not touch, drew Legolas' gaze back to his own by sheer will. "Legolas, my dear boy," he said confidentially "truly the Valar spend much less time worrying about how their dear children meet their bodily needs than you seem to think. It is the not the diversions of the _hröa_ but perversions of the _fëa_ which distress them."

Legolas had a burning question which he desperately did and did not wish to ask. He forced it out. "Were we a … a perversion, Estel, Arwen and myself? Is that why Arwen was taken from us?"

"No, no, my dearest lad," replied Gandalf immediately. "Dear me, where did you get such an idea? You were most blessed and favoured of the Valar, you three. Could you not tell from the way the sun shone upon you, from the way you prospered at Minas Tirith?"

"But Arwen … so painfully … so suddenly…" Legolas could not help it, though he inwardly cursed his weakness. There was pleading in his voice.

"Ah, my boy, my boy. I wish I were allowed to put your mind fully at rest. It was her time; that is all I may say."

"And I will never see her again. Nor will I ever meet again with Estel after he passes." Legolas' tone was not bitter but contemplative, as he said aloud for the first time the thought he had made himself face for so many years. "If what we are told is true, they will have each other for eternity in Ilúvatar, but I … I will be divorced from them unto the end of the World."

Gandalf shifted agitatedly in his illusory chair. "Manwë, Manwë, why will you not let me speak?" he muttered. He sighed and took a large puff on his pipe. Legolas watched him silently, wondering what disturbed him. Eventually the wizard leaned towards him again, beckoning to him. "Listen to me carefully, lad. The Valar are the noblest and mightiest of all spirits, creators of this world and shapers of all that is wonderful and good within it. They are also," he muttered very low into Legolas' ear, "just between you, me and the fireplace, the most shameless assemblage of romantics I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and not above twisting their own rules for a happy ending to a love story. And that's all I have to say about that." And he sat back and took another long puff at his pipe, as if to deny that he had committed this wonderful indiscretion.

A broad smile lit up Legolas' face. "You were ever our greatest friend, Mithrandir," he said simply.

"Merely doing my job, lad, merely doing my job. Which reminds me, there is someplace I must be soon." The white robes had begun to shimmer and dim.

"Estel is well, though?"

"He is fine, lad, just fine!" said the increasingly spectral voice, and Gandalf faded out of sight.

Legolas sat back in his chair with the incredulous smile still on his face, and for the first time in many long years joyously defied the cursed sea-longing to do its worst. All would be well in the end.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Jack swung up on deck as dawn broke the next day and paused with a benign snicker at the sight that greeted him. _A real weakness for wounded strays, that man has!_, he thought.

Aragorn finished wrapping his makeshift splint around the broken leg of the gull lying quiescent in his grasp, and murmured a few words to it in some liquid language. Then he lifted the bird, giving it a helpful toss upwards, and it flapped away.

"A good morrow to you, Strider," Jack greeted him. Aragorn jumped slightly.

"You're almost as bad as the Elf, sneaking up on a man like that!" he joked. "It looks like another fine day." It did indeed. The sky was cloudless in every direction, and the seas were nearly as calm as they had been the day before.

Jack looked southward over the waters. "Not sure about that," he replied. "There may be weather coming. Feel it in my bones. What do you think, Gibbs?" His first mate had just joined them.

"I don't see any signs," replied Gibbs, "but I'll trust your bones any day of the week."

"Take us closer inshore, just to be safe, then," said Jack. "We'll try and find a nice sheltered bay to ride out whatever's coming."

"If anything comes at all," teased Aragorn, looking around at the clear sky as if to disown his innuendo.

Jack pretended to ignore it too. "Aye, well, if that's the case, we can just drop the anchor and have nice swim in the bay," he proposed.

"You swim?"

"Aye, why wouldn't I?"

"I've had run-ins with pirates before. And the ones I met wouldn't think of going in the water. Nor indeed would many of the sailors in my Navy."

"'Tis true," said Jack, "there's not many…" He trailed off and looked hard at the southern horizon. "Bugger it to bloody hell," he muttered. Turning, he bellowed, "Gibbs! Cotton! Belay that last order. Bring the sails down _**now!**_**"**

Aragorn's help was not refused this time. The four men moved as quickly as they could to release the mighty swathes of sailcloth from their bonds, bringing them rattling and flapping down around them like enormous night creatures on the attack. Within a short minute, the billowing black cloth was near indistinguishable from the billowing black clouds that had blown suddenly in, and in seconds more a pelting rain further hindered their efforts, making deck and rigging treacherously slippery. The roar of a mighty storm began to drown out their frantic shouts, and the Pearl lurched back and forth like a terrified animal.

Jack caught sight of Aragorn desperately saving his balance as the deck tipped steeply. "Strider!" he bawled. "Go below! Below!"

If Aragorn heard, he gave no sign, but instead ran unsteadily to lend a hand to Cotton where he skittered and slid at the end of an uncontrollable rope. As they struggled together to secure it, lightning split the sky, illuminating the skeletal masts.

Through the deafening growl of the thunder came a faint howl of warning from Gibbs, but Aragorn could see naught but blackness and the jagged ghost of the lightning in his eyes. Then the lightning struck again, and he watched aghast as a spar, broken loose from its hasty mooring, arced through the air and knocked Jack clean over the rail and into the roaring sea.

Without a thought, Aragorn leapt up and followed him in.

For a few seconds, stunned by the impact of the water, Aragorn had time to muse that the sea was curiously peaceful here below the surface. But it was a very brief peace; as he rose perforce for air, the waves battered him with cold fury. He looked around frantically, crying "Jack!" as loudly as he could, but only choked on sea water for his trouble. Wishing himself rid of his heavy boots, he struggled mightily to stay afloat. As he flinched away from the assaults of the waves, something more solid, some piece of flotsam, struck him across his right temple and eye, dizzying and hurting him. "Jack!" he called again.

"Here, Strider," came Jack's gasp beside him, and with it the welcome warmth of an arm wrapped around his chest. "This way." Aragorn half-swam and was half-dragged towards the looming shadow that was the Pearl. The lightning and thunder continued unnervingly around them as they made their difficult progress, not sure who was rescuing or being rescued, but each determined that his grasp on the other would fail only with his last breath.

Gibbs' hail was nearly lost on the howling wind, but his rope thumped the sea close by, and after three or four tries, they were able to seize it and coil it around them both. "Ready … for … the difficult bit?" rasped Jack with a feral grin.

"Ready … as you are," grunted Aragorn, equally exhilarated. And he made a silent petition to Ulmo that the two seamen on the tossing deck above them would have strong grips and steady footing.

When they cleared the surface, Aragorn felt twice his normal weight, waterlogged as he was; only his head was light, and spinning rather alarmingly to boot. He tightened his grip around Jack's back. "Are you injured?" he gasped out.

"Nay," replied Jack, but had no time to elaborate as they swung towards the Pearl's black side, and it towards them, at a terrifying rate. They combined their efforts to push away as best they could, giving Gibbs and Cotton a few seconds to pull them up another precious couple of feet before the ship keeled back again. Aragorn had all he could handle just staying conscious, keeping his grip upon rope and pirate, and adjusting to the rough rhythms of their fragile lifeline. As they pushed off the ship again and again, he thought he heard Jack murmuring soothing blandishments to his lass, which seemed only proper and normal to his clouding mind. His sense of the passage of time slipped away, and it came as a welcome shock when Cotton grasped both his wrists and yanked him over the rail on to the rain-soaked deck.

Vaguely he heard Jack's sharp query whether everything was secure. "Near as we can manage for now," said Gibbs.

"All below, then," came Jack's disembodied voice, and Aragorn succumbed to darkness.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"He's comin' round, Jack," said Gibbs, as Aragorn surfaced from a confused dream of the peaceful place beneath the waves.

Beads and streaky kohl-lined eyes hove into view. "Good," said Jack briefly. "Ta, Gibbs. I'll take care of him now. Take a gander upside, would you? I think it's going off."

"Aye, Cap'n."

Aragorn pushed himself to a sitting position. The ship still rolled beneath him, but far less vigorously. "How long was I… ?" He became belatedly aware that he was dressed only in a couple of blankets.

"Near on fifteen minutes," Jack told him, pacing up and down in his own blankets. He turned to Aragorn with ill-concealed anger. "By gad, Strider, if you were in my crew, you'd be on a grate taking ten of the cat right now! When a ship's captain says 'Get below', you get below, savvy?"

"I thought I was needed," replied Aragorn, rather meekly.

"On this ship I'm the judge o' that. And as for that damn-fool stunt of throwing yourself overboard…" He kneeled down next to Aragorn, bringing himself threateningly close.

Aragorn bent forward and kissed him, swiftly, on the lips.

"What the hell?" sputtered Jack.

"I kiss you; you forgive me - is that not how it works?" Aragorn was smiling his little half-smile. And as he fully expected, he was immediately clutched close.

"Aye, it seems so, you smug, ridiculous, heroic bastard," Jack told him in his ear. "For pity's sake, man, don't ever try anything like that again." His voice dropped further, to a whisper. "Thank you."

Up above, Gibbs grunted in contentment at the rapidly calming sea and clearing sky, then made his way forward to see to the mess in the galley. Had he looked upwards again, he would have seen a most curious cloud formation: burgeoning grey eyebrows topping a huge grey beard, which seemed to cover a self-satisfied smile. As the wind whipped the clouds away, one of them formed briefly into a floating smoky ring before dispersing to the freshening breeze.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Still no, then?" Aragorn asked one more time as they rounded the point into Edhellond Harbour. Even from this distance he could see the hubbub beginning onshore as the Pearl was spotted.

"'Fraid so," shrugged Jack.

"All right," sighed Aragorn. "You're coming ashore, aren't you? We'll have to find a way to get your gold to you." Jack grinned broadly, incorrigibly. "Bring Gibbs too," Aragorn added. "He hasn't had a chance for shore leave yet."

"Been whinin', has he?" asked Jack cheerfully. "Aye, then." They stood and watched the shore approach for a few moments.

"Why is it still no?" asked Aragorn suddenly.

"*Now* you're askin'?"

"Now I'm asking."

Jack hmmphed. "It's not fair to the lad," he said eventually.

"I don't think you owe Will any loyalty…"

"Not Will. Your lad. Legolas."

"You don't fancy him?"

Jack rolled his eyes, and Aragorn silently conceded the absurdity.

"I like him very much," said Jack. "He's a fine young man." Aragorn forbore to point out that Legolas was neither young nor a man, for he sensed Jack was getting to the crux of the matter. "He doesn't deserve to have someone in his bed treating him like … a shadow."

Aragorn sighed and laid a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You really believe he hasn't thought of that already?"

Jack shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"Thought you told me pirates have no honour? They just take what they want?"

Jack gave him a wry grin. "Truth t'tell, I never know what I want these days! Except, of course, for six hundred gold pieces."

"Five hundred."

"Was it five? I could have sworn he said six!"

Aragorn laughed aloud. He pointed down to the docks. "Would you look at that? We're back two days early, and still they've managed to summon up a band, an honour guard, and a dozen dignitaries in their best robes. Jack, Jack, turn the ship around, please…"

Now it was Jack's turn to laugh and clap his new friend on the back. "I'll be lowering the boat in ten minutes, Strider. Best go and find yer King face."

Fifteen minutes later, King Elessar strode up the small gangplank from the Pearl's boat, Jack Sparrow at his side and Gibbs in tow. He greeted the cheering townspeople with an affable nod, and turned to greet his chief guard, Dromion. "Guard," he said, taking a firm grip on Jack's arm. "Arrest this man for piracy, kidnapping and assaulting the King's person."

_tbc_


	10. Chapter 10

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Special warning for this part: **coarse language and fishy themes.

**Chapter 10**

"This one too, Sire?" asked one of Aragorn's guard, who had already taken hold of Gibbs as a precautionary measure.

"Small fry," replied Aragorn casually. "But hold him for now." Gibbs seemed stoically unconcerned.

Jack had retreated into wary stillness under the heavy hand of the guard. Only his eyes moved, busily scanning the assembled crowd for members of his crew, or indeed for any hope of rescue. At Aragorn's nod, his hands were pulled roughly behind him and enclosed in weighty manacles.

The Mayor of Edhellond bustled forward in dismay, all bows and apologies. "Praise to the Valar you are safe, Your Majesty," he said. "It is unthinkable that you should have undergone such an ordeal. We were given the impression - erroneous, it now seems - that you embarked with this scoundrel by choice, and his accomplices are still at large within the village, but that will be remedied in the instant…"

"Nay, nay, my good Mayor, do not distress yourself so; I am but slightly injured," replied Aragorn genially, knowing full well that the black eye he sported was still quite impressive. "Doubtless once it was discovered I had been kidnapped, my Consort felt it necessary to discourage any foolhardy and dangerous rescue attempts, knowing that I would be able to gain the rascal's confidence and return to you without endangering the fine men of Edhellond. Now, here is what I would like you to do…" And he steered the Mayor into a short walk that took him out of Jack's earshot. However, as Jack watched intently he saw Aragorn indicate Gibbs, then Jack, and clap the mayor on the arm with a friendly laugh.

Jack was hustled, none too gently, into the courtyard of a neighbouring inn, where one of the guard had hired a horse and wooden cart from the willing innkeeper. It was the work of seconds to hoist Jack into the cart and attach him, most uncomfortably, to the rail. Satisfied that job was accomplished, Aragorn walked across the yard to where Gibbs and his keeper awaited his pleasure.

Once again, Jack strained to hear and could not. But it was clear that all was not as it seemed. Jack watched in astonishment and then anger as Aragorn smilingly dismissed Gibbs' captor and, as soon as the man had left the yard, turned and gripped Gibbs by the shoulder. Gibbs laughed at some joke Aragorn made, and judging by the way they both glanced over at him, it had been about Jack. Stung, he looked away and pretended not to notice. But of course he had to look back a second later, only to see Aragorn handing a pouch to Gibbs - his Judas-price no doubt. Pirate or no, Jack wouldn't have believed it of Gibbs. He had never shown any signs of wanting the Pearl for himself, the traitorous, sneaky bastard.

Gibbs left the yard and Aragorn loped back across to the cart, obviously in high spirits. "Doing all right there, Jack?" he asked cheerily.

Jack ignored him with as much dignity as a man could muster sitting on his arse in a cart that stank of beer and worse, with his hands manacled behind him, and no rum in sight. And he completely disregarded the horse-blanket Aragorn chucked to him.

Aragorn shrugged, then smiled broadly as a groom entered the yard with his beloved horse. He mounted, making clucking, soothing noises to the high-bred steed as he reminded it smoothly and expertly of who was master. Around him, his small guard had begun to mount their horses likewise, and very soon they made their procession through the streets of Edhellond. There was much cheering for the popular King, and more than a few tomatoes and eggs were pitched at the cart and its humiliated occupant trailing in his wake.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty!" An obsequious merchant ran breathlessly alongside the Kings' horse, and almost bowed himself double when Aragorn obligingly stopped. "If you require witnesses against the villain, I and many others would be happy to testify against him, here or where'er you please."

"Thank you kindly, good sir," said Aragorn graciously. "Should we be in need of any further evidence, most certainly you will receive our summons. However, I fancy we have quite enough to warrant stringing the rogue up from the tallest tower in Minas Tirith!"

Disappointed, the merchant bowed himself backward out of the King's path and the procession inland resumed.

/-/-/-/-/-/-

Jack drew his knees even tighter up beneath his chin and gnawed absently for a moment at the knee of his breeches. They were trundling along a quiet country road, with nothing but confounded fields in every direction and not so much as a whiff of the sea. They had crested a hill a few miles back, and Jack had foolishly yielded to the temptation to look back, catching a last glimpse of the Pearl sailing out of harbour without him. Heartbroken, he had turned his face inland and brooded ever since. He knew he should break the ice with his guards, make a few jokes, charm them out of their vigilance, if he hoped to make a play for escape whilst they were still in open country. But, to be honest, he was just too dispirited for the moment.

Once more he eyed the tall, noble rider at the head of the procession. An attractive figure of a man, it was true, but Jack decided he had never been so mistaken in a man in his life. How had the friendly, solicitous, rather vulnerable Strider suddenly turned into this callous stranger? Jack tried to settle himself a little more comfortably, the manacles digging into his back where he leaned against the side of the cart. He uttered an oath under his breath.

Jack looked over and caught the glance of the nearer of the two guards riding alongside him. "Oy, Dromion, isn't it?"

The guard nodded.

"Think you could shunt that blanket under me arse? Please?"

For all his rather ferocious appearance, Dromion was a kindly man, and bewildered besides by this latest turn of events. If the King really had been kidnapped by this pirate, then why had Dromion heard no talk of discipline for the guards who should have been on watch, himself included? And if not, and the King had gone willingly on the ship, as the Consort had all but told them outright, why was this man now sitting manacled in a cart, bound towards Minas Tirith and summary justice at the end of a rope? It made Dromion decidedly uneasy, and he felt a certain grudging sympathy for the wretch now casting him pleading looks with big, kohl-lined eyes.

"Edlin," he barked to his junior on the other side of the cart. "Keep an eye out for any foolishness from the prisoner." And he alighted from his horse and hopped up into the back of the cart, nimbly for such a large man. He seized the coarse blanket, folded it a couple of times, and slid it under the hips Jack raised for him.

"Ta, mate," said Jack, obviously relieved at the cushioning from the cart's incessant jolting. "Since you've been so kind, luv, I don't suppose I c'd have these shackles moved round to the front, could I?"

Dromion looked at him skeptically, but once again his good nature got the better of him. "I'll just have to ask the King," he said, instead of "No", then betook himself back to his horse and up to the front of their straggling convoy.

Jack shrugged to himself. So much for that hope. He sank his chin against his knees again.

When he looked up, Edlin was unaccountably gone, and a horse that most certainly was not Dromion's paced along at his side. He glanced a little farther upwards to see Aragorn dangling the key to his manacles in one hand. The King's face was expressionless, but his eyes were alight with - what? Cruelty? Concern? Mischief? Jack could not read him at all.

"How d'ye fare, Jack?" asked Aragorn.

Jack turned his face away and spat eloquently.

"Ah, come now, Jack, don't you trust me?"

"Not one whit," said Jack emphatically, still turned away. He could have sworn he heard a chuckle at that.

"Fair enough." And the King clicked to his horse, bringing him right up to the side of the cart, and swung himself gracefully over the rail, landing right next to the pirate. "Let's get you a bit more comfortable, shall we?" Pushing Jack forward a little, Aragorn reached behind him and unlocked the shackles.

The second his wrists were free, Jack made a bolt for freedom and the open back end of the cart.

"What about your gold?" asked the King.

Jack froze for a second with one leg extended in thin air. He pulled himself slowly back into the cart, turning to the King, and leaned carefully, casually with one hip against the side rail. "I wasn't aware that was still in question," he remarked in a conversational tone.

"Yes indeed," replied Aragorn. "It will be delivered to Legolas in Hathfell, of course. Though it may not have arrived yet, as we came back a couple of days early. But I assure you, you will have your five hundred gold pieces."

"In exchange for what?" Jack asked immediately, full of suspicion.

"Nothing more than services already rendered," Aragorn assured him. "And I fully expect that a clever, slippery pirate like yourself will escape our clutches in Hathfell and rejoin his ship. Which ship will be awaiting you just around the point west of Edhellond, by the way. Gibbs will be most relieved to see his Captain again."

Jack slipped slowly down to a sitting position, confusion and relief written all over his expressive face.

In a moment, that relief changed to indignation."What was all that mummery at the docks about, then?" he asked. "Why did you have me arrested?"

"Ah yes," said Aragorn. "I'm sorry I had to inconvenience you like that. So much of Kingship is keeping up appearances, you know, and my subjects have very strong opinions on what is proper in a King's behaviour. Consorting with known pirates is not upon their list."

Jack sniffed irritably. He was good enough to consort with any King, thank you very much.

"The good side of it," Aragorn went on, "is that in making such a spectacle of apprehending you, the obvious ringleader, I was able to persuade the Mayor to call off his constables from your crew, and allow them to depart peaceably to the Pearl."

"Ah," said Jack, liking that much better. "That was astute of you, Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty? Not Strider?" Aragorn sounded almost wistful.

Jack pursed his lips. There was still one thing he needed to know.

"You could have just told me what you were up to, y'know," he complained. "I would have gone along with it, just to get the gold."

"I know that." Aragorn had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. "I'm afraid… well, I didn't take too kindly to having a dagger drawn on me in my bedroom." He bit his lip. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, Jack."

Jack's eyes went wide. "You've been plotting this all this time!" he exclaimed. "God rot your bones, knock out yer head rails, and shrivel your liver, you whoreson, cocksucking flounder-fucker!"

Aragorn did his best to look penitent, but he couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. And it was infectious. His rage gone like a passing wave, Jack started to chuckle, and then to laugh out loud. "Fooled me proper, you did," he admitted. "Bastard. Really had me worried."

The guards, who had approached hurriedly at the sound of the prisoner's outburst, retreated again in confusion as Aragorn waved them off, laughing heartily himself. Someday, Dromion grumbled to himself, someone would actually explain to them what was going on.

"Dromion." Oh, now the King was calling him back. "Do you remember that disreputable object you took from the prisoner at the docks? Bring it to me, would you?"

Dromion repressed his long-suffering air as best he could and brought the object in question.

"There now," said Aragorn with satisfaction, placing Jack's hat on his head. "I crown you Captain Jack Sparrow once more." He turned to the guard. "Dromion, tell your troop that the prisoner has given his parole until we leave Hathfell. They need no longer worry about guarding him."

Startled, Dromion blurted, "You'd take a pirate's word, sir?"

Aragorn chuckled. "In this case, yes." He turned to Jack. "Would you like to ride, Jack?"

Jack took in the size of Aragorn's horse, still patiently pacing alongside the cart. "What, on one of those things? No thank you!"

"Very well, then," said Aragorn. "I'll just share your carriage for a few miles, if I may." He waited until the guards had all ridden out of earshot, and then added. "Jack?"

"Aye, Strider?"

"_Flounder-fucker?"_

They collapsed together in giggles like a pair of schoolboys.

/-/-/-/-/-

Three times had Legolas dashed down to the door of the inn this afternoon in response to the sound of hooves, and three times it had been a false alarm. So this time he managed to descend the stairs slowly and with dignity, maintaining the calm befitting the Consort of the King of Gondor, keeping his expectations in check, his steps even, and … and with what could only be described as a squeal, he flung himself across the little atrium and into the arms of his love, swinging him round and round in a circle and kissing his face over and over.

Dromion and his troop disguised their smirks as best they could. They were well used to this, and they liked well to see it.

"What in Arda have you done to yourself?" asked Legolas, who had pulled back at last far enough to see the gleaming bruise around his lover's eye.

"Oh, you can blame that pirate over there," said Aragorn cheerfully.

Finding himself suddenly the centre of attention, Jack bowed politely. "Your Highness," he said.

"So formal, Jack," said Legolas, touching him on the arm. A little to his surprise, Jack found he didn't mind, not at all.

"Jack is not here of his own free will," Aragorn observed gravely, "but as a prisoner, albeit on parole. He is charged with kidnapping, amongst other things."

"Oh," replied Legolas. "You must tell me more of this immediately."

"That I will. Jack, can you amuse yourself for a couple of hours while Legolas and I go upstairs and, er, catch up on affairs of state?" Aragorn followed Jack's gaze through to the common room of the inn, where a game of cards had caught his eye. "Ah, I see you can." Jack grinned back at him wickedly, and Aragorn added, "Leave them enough to pay for their drinks, there's a good lad."

Jack and the remaining guards scattered on their separate ways, and Legolas found himself being chased at top speed up the stairs. "Come here and let me catch you, my flounder!"

As soon as the door closed, Legolas turned and wrapped himself around Aragorn, letting himself be walked backwards towards the bed. "Estel, the sea air has made you quite mad," he said, laughing joyously. "How have I suddenly become a flatfish?"

"Flat you will be, all right - flat on your back on this bed just as soon as I get these…" - Aragorn struggled with some knotted laces - "_confounded_ clothes off you."

"Oh yes?" Legolas challenged. He rolled the man over easily, and planted himself fully on top. "Nay, Estel, my sea-going man. Today" (a kiss to the forehead) "you will be" (a kiss to the lips, much too brief) "the fish" (a long, sucking bite at the base of the throat) "struggling and begging for mercy" (a teasing lick down the hard length of chest exposed by the half-shed tunic) "at the end of my pole." And Legolas reached triumphantly under the pillow and flourished the vial of oil.

Aragorn gazed happily up at his Elf and spread his arms wide in blissful surrender.

_tbc_


	11. Chapter 11

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 11**

"Are you awake?" whispered Aragorn into the pointy ear.

"Mmm, barely," replied the Elf, yawning.

"And not before time, you slugabeds," came Gandalf's dry tones. The lovers sat up in startlement, clutching to themselves whatever bedclothes came to hand. Gandalf's image hovered disconcertingly in mid-air, one hand holding what looked like a bunch of plump, purple grapes, while the other plucked them one by one and maneuvered them past the great beard. Each disappeared with a slurp of relish.

Legolas recovered first, having grown almost used to Gandalf's sudden appearances. "How may we serve you, Mithrandir?" he asked politely.

"Oh, it is nothing much," Gandalf told them, fastidiously wiping away a little purple juice from his moustache. "I just wanted to point out that the dinner hour approaches, and your *_prisoner*_ is in a fair way to getting himself drummed out of the village before the table can even be laid. It seems he takes a rather relaxed view of the rules of card games."

Sure enough, there was shouting going on downstairs.

Aragorn grumbled under his breath and pulled on his breeches. "I'll see to it," he said. But he could not forbear first walking over to the floating image. "Gandalf, is it really you?" he asked, putting a hand out and encountering only air.

"Well, yes and no," responded Gandalf gravely.

That made Aragorn laugh. "Yes, it's you all right! I have missed you badly, you old gaffer."

A little breeze shifted through Aragorn's untidy locks like a caressing hand. "And I you, Elessar."

Aragorn smiled hugely at the spectre, then put on a frown and the nearest tunic (Legolas' as it turned out - a little tight across the chest but it would serve). He left the Elf and the Wizard contemplating each other.

"Well, how much did you tell him?"

"Everything, of course," replied Legolas. "Surely you expected no less."

"You are right - in fact I was counting on it. How do you judge his state of mind?"

Legolas nodded gratefully. "Much improved. I thank you, Mithrandir, with all my heart."

Gandalf shrugged. "He did it himself - with your aid and that of your pet pirate."

Downstairs the shouting had noticeably subsided, and Legolas thought he could hear chastened murmurs of "Yes, Your Majesty" interspersed with the King's quiet, authoritative tones.

"Umm," said Legolas thoughtfully. "Should we expect to welcome you to our bedroom again, Mithrandir?"

Gandalf chuckled. "Nay, lad, you may play with your pirate to your heart's content without fear of any interruption from me."

Legolas flushed slightly. "But indeed, Mithrandir, you must know that our 'pet pirate,' as you call him, has said no, and neither Estel nor I would dream of compelling him."

"I should hope not," replied Gandalf severely. Then he gave his eyebrows a most undignified waggle. "I have great faith in your persuasive powers, Elf."

Legolas grew a little pinker around the cheekbones and looked down, almost missing the shimmer which presaged Gandalf's departure.

"Wait, Mithrandir!"

Gandalf obligingly paused in mid-shimmer.

"Will we see you again?"

"My work is almost done, but I will see Jack Sparrow safely back to his own place and time when the moment comes - one last sea-storm, as I told you. And then I will visit the two of you once more."

He was gone.

/-/-/-/-/

It had not been an elegant meal, but the inn food had been plentiful and tasty. Too, it had been accompanied with much liquid cheer: rum for Jack and Aragorn, and miruvor for Legolas, who had most impolitely spat out his first mouthful of rum, to the King's great amusement.

"It's an acquired taste, 'Lasse," he said.

"One you appear to have acquired," replied Legolas tartly, with a significant glance at Aragorn's fourth glass. Aragorn kicked him under the table.

Jack grinned to himself. He had never seen a more married couple. He wondered how it had been with the three of them. And since he was happily three sheets to the wind, he asked the question aloud.

Legolas tensed at the tactless reference to Arwen, but Aragorn, far from flinching, seemed to welcome the chance to talk about her.

"Arwen was our helmsman, Jack," said Aragorn, falling accommodatingly if rather tipsily into a nautical comparison. "If I was the ship's hull, carrying the burden of state through the high seas of fortune, and 'Lasse the best possible lookout, seeing far and wide from the rigging, it was Arwen who steered us all aright from the wheel."

"She was a bossy she-elf," clarified Legolas with a slight roll of his eyes at his lover's elaborate metaphor. "And we loved her for it."

Aragorn put a hand over his. "That we did, sweet."

"Hmph," Jack pondered aloud. "Well, Lizzie's got the bossy part down cold, there's no question."

"Lizzie?" enquired Legolas.

"Will's fiancée. Or wife, perchance, by now."

Aragorn's eyes lit up. "Thinking of a threesome for yourself, Jack?"

Jack pished and tushed, but there was no doubt the idea had captured his imagination. "She's a sassy little vessel, 'tis true, and more of a pirate in her own way than my Will'll ever be," he said. "But I have no reason to think she…" The memory of a firelit night on a deserted island came to his mind. "Then again, mebbe…" he amended with a private smile. That smile faded as he scratched his finger against a table that was solidly, unequivocally in Middle Earth. "Not much point in dwellin' on might-ha-beens, though, is there?" he added with a forced grin.

"Ah well, as to that…" Legolas started, and received a warning glare from Aragorn. Gandalf was surely in enough trouble with the Valar already. "As to that," Legolas went on imperturbably, "I am reliably informed that if you make a day's sail due south from Edhellond, you will encounter another storm, very like the one that brought you to this place."

Jack absorbed this information with the air of one who had seen and heard stranger things - as indeed he had. "And I take it your reliable informant is in a position to know?" He looked to Aragorn for confirmation.

"I'd say so, yes," replied the King.

Jack sighed. "Well then, no insult to yer hospitality, gentlemen, but I should collect my gold and be on my way."

Aragorn looked an inquiry at Legolas.

"I expect our messenger in the morning," said the Elf. "It is a long ride from Minas Tirith."

"Shall I arrange a room for you tonight then, Jack?" asked Aragorn, almost managing to keep a wry smile off his face.

"Aye, if you would, yer Majesty," responded Jack. "Or I can doze on a bench in the tavern if there's naught else available - I'm not choosy."

"Oh, I'm sure there'll be a room. You'll be a man of means tomorrow. I was at some pains to convince the innkeeper of that this afternoon when he was on the verge of having you tarred and feathered for upsetting his regulars."

Jack chose to take that as a compliment. "Amazing the change of manners the prospect of five hundred gold pieces will bring," he smirked.

Legolas winked imperceptibly at Aragorn. "Ah, well, Jack…" he said. "As to that amount - I'm sorry to say there will have to be a substantial discount."

"What?"

"Our bargain specified the return of the King unharmed. He is, I notice, somewhat damaged. Under the circumstances, three hundred and fifty gold pieces seems generous."

"I'd not have believed you a cheater, Elf," Jack said tightly.

"That does seem rather harsh, 'Lasse," put in the King. "It is but a trifling bruise, after all. Surely there is something Jack could do to appease you and claim the full amount?"

Jack looked back and forth between them.

"Well," replied the Elf mischievously, "there *is* something I've been wanting to do to him ever since I met him. Though he might find it something of an ordeal; definitely a test of his courage and endurance, and best undertaken without the hindrance of clothes."

"Yes?" asked Aragorn, a little too eagerly.

Jack sighed. "Et tu, Strider? What a fine team of rogues you two could be if you turned confidence men!" He got up unsteadily and balanced himself against the mantelpiece. "I told you once already that I am no whore. Not for pennies and not for a hundred and fifty gold pieces." Far from sounding angry, he merely seemed depressed, almost - if he were not Captain Jack Sparrow - close to tears.

Legolas cast a worried glance at Aragorn. Sensing he had hit a nerve, though he did not understand exactly how, he got up and joined the pirate at the fireplace. "Explain to me, Jack," the Elf demanded softly. "You are not one for over-scrupulous morality. You take what you want.."

"Aye, that I do," responded Jack with a slightly grim smile, as Legolas steered him carefully towards a large sofa.

"And you are no prude, I'll warrant."

"Not as anyone'd notice," agreed Jack, sinking down rather farther than he had expected into the soft cushions. It was no hardship to feel the hard muscle of the Elf's arm slide behind his neck as they sat. He laid back his rum-addled head.

"And yet… this is a line you will not cross, a point you will not concede," observed Aragorn, adding his own warmth comfortably to Jack's other side.

"And you want me to explain to you why I will let you buy the use of my fine ship, but not that of my worthless person; is that it?" Jack asked wryly. "A fine question from an honourable King and his noble Consort." Aragorn took a sharp breath, but Jack forestalled his retort. "I will tell you then, if you have the patience to listen to a bit of a yarn."

Aragorn signaled his assent by sitting back and resting a hand on Jack's near shoulder. The pirate closed his eyes where he lay against Legolas' arm and became aware of a most unfamiliar sensation - so unfamiliar that it took him a couple of seconds to put a name to it. Safe. That was it. He felt safe. He opened his eyes and started to tell his tale to a crack in the ceiling.

"Imagine, if you can," said Jack, "a city inhabited by many many thousands of people, all grubbing for precious space, all living so close to each other that they are constantly fractious and ill-tempered, always on the edge of committing violence upon each other. Imagine, too, that this city is just as filthy as can possibly be, the streets full of offal and rubbish, its gutters flowing with every species of human and animal waste. Imagine a people so stricken by unhealthy living, rotten food, and pernicious disease that their bodies and faces are often twisted and deformed before they have reached their prime; they look aged while still but children. Imagine, if you will, the powerful few picking their way heedlessly through this squalor, willfully deaf to the cries of anguish and need all around them."

"Eru," said Legolas, shaken, "what you describe is as bad as Mordor."

"I do not know Mordor," said Jack, "but the name sounds not unlike. The place is called London."

"Go on," said Aragorn tightly, afraid he knew what would come next.

"Imagine, if you would, a boy in this place, a boy without family or friends. His first memory is of warring with stray curs for edible scraps amongst others' leavings. He has been taken in, an object of well-meaning charity, a dozen times, and just as often has been thrown out, or has run away. It takes no time at all for this lad to discover that there is no friend can be relied upon but money, and that money in enough quantity buys that most precious gift, the freedom to do as one pleases. But stealing money is a hazardous business," (Jack's lip curled sardonically) "and if it doesn't hang ye, it can earn you a whipping at the cart's tail or, if ye can read a psalm for benefit of clergy, a brand on the thumb." He unconsciously ran the fingers of his right hand over the faint "T" on the thumb of his left. "A young lad who has miraculously survived with most of his teeth and a clear skin has other ways he can earn his keep."

Jack shrugged, seeming surprised when Legolas took the branded hand in his own. "How old were you?" asked the Elf, his face pained.

"Near as I can count it, I was about eleven when I first became an Usher of the Back Door, as the saying went. Fourteen when my protector of the moment was convicted for sodomy at the Old Bailey, and mercifully only sentenced to stand in the pillory for two hours. The mob abused him so badly he died anyway. They were merciful to me too, so they said - I was sent to serve two years in the Navy, where there were certainly many fine men who were pleased to make me their chicken and use my windward passage in exchange for a little extra food, a few pennies, and of course plenty of grog. It was mebbe a year later when we fell in with pirates, and I decided I liked my prospects better with the villains than with the heroes. 'Twas a harsh life, and I wasn't above using me looks to get something I wanted - for I was a pretty one then, believe it or no - but none of them tried to own me, and the gold and the freedom were out there fer the taking. And that, milords, is when I made a vow that I'd never be any man's whore again, not for all the gold on the Spanish Main." There was defiance in Jack's last declaration; he let go of the Elf's hand abruptly and sat up straight, away from them both.

"Neither shall you be now, Jack," Aragorn said immediately. "Truly, I am sorry we teased you; there was never any question of using you against your will, nor of withholding your gold."

"Oh, really? I seem to recall some mention of an unclothed ordeal," retorted Jack, unmollified.

Legolas leaned forward and whispered in Jack's ear.

Jack slumped suddenly backwards into the cushions, laughing in spite of himself. "That is all? Why did ye not say so in the first place? Bring it on!"

_tbc_


	12. Chapter 12

Title: The Man of the Sea.

Author: Surreysmum

E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com

Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover

Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack

Rating: M

Beta: the inimitable namarie120

Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters

**Chapter 12**

_There's a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow_

[Hamlet]

The chamber Aragorn and Legolas shared was warm; a vigorous fire burned in the hearth, and there was steam rising from the large hip-bath in front of it. And yet Jack, standing unashamedly naked beside it, with one finger testing the temperature, gave a little shiver and looked at the water with exaggerated distaste.

"Is this really necessary?" he appealed to Aragorn. "After all, you and I both took a bath in the sea just a few days ago!"

Aragorn grinned. "Well, in my experience, a bit of Elvish assistance makes it quite enjoyable. But suit yourself."

Jack's eyes widened, and Aragorn turned to see the reason why - Legolas, clad only in a towel, if clad you could call it. The Elf tossed a lump of soap to the startled pirate. "There's no sense in getting my clothes wet, is there?" he pointed out coolly. "And I'm sure you'll kick up a fuss."

"I will now," promised Jack, showing his gold teeth. He sniffed the soap. "Nice," he admitted, rather reluctantly. "Not flowery."

Taking that as a challenge, Legolas moved closer. "You expected 'flowery' from me?" he murmured. Jack climbed quickly into the bath and sat down, slopping water over the edge in his haste to work up a concealing lather against his midsection. Legolas merely smiled, and kneeled beside the tub, wetting and then rubbing his own lump of soap over the pirate's shoulders and upper back without waiting for permission.

There was a discreet knock at the door, and Aragorn greeted the innkeeper's wife with some coin and Jack's clothes for washing, including the headscarf he had at last talked the pirate into shedding. Then he bolted the door behind him and turned to the enticing scene in front of the fire. Legolas had contrived with very little trouble to slide both arms around Jack's neck, and the pirate appeared to be well and truly lost in the Elf's blue eyes, though his tight fists on either edge of the bath betrayed the turmoil that still raged within. Aragorn settled himself quietly into a nearby chair.

Legolas flicked a hand through the hair at the back of Jack's neck. "I'd like to untangle this and wash it, if I may," he announced softly.

Jack was in a mood to challenge. "Only if I get to unbraid *your* hair too!" Legolas' dumbfounded expression was unexpected. Jack glanced quickly over to Aragorn.

"Amongst Elves, the undoing of the warrior braids is a very intimate act, Jack," explained Aragorn. "But not, I think, an unwelcome one? 'Lasse?"

Legolas had recovered from his momentary surprise. "Of course you may, Jack," he said. But he could not help himself from reaching out a hand to Aragorn, inviting him to take part. Aragorn happily knelt alongside his Elf.

"Watch," he said simply, and slid a tender hand into the Elf's hair. Legolas closed his eyes. With skill born of many years, Aragorn loosed and shook out one of the braids inch by golden inch with one hand, while with the back of the other he stroked gently across the high cheek-bones, down the curve of the jaw, and back across the perfect lips. He combed through the loosened hair with his fingertips for a moment, then swept it back behind a pointed ear, upon which he bestowed a tiny nibble.

Legolas caught his breath and opened his eyes. "Estel," he whispered, and turned his face for a kiss, which was swiftly granted. Then, remembering his manners, Legolas seized the end of the other side-braid and offered it to Jack with a smile that was almost shy.

Jack applied himself to his task with the deliberation of the slightly inebriated, determined to be slow rather than clumsy. He used both hands on the silken hair, glad that his fingers were now clean for the task, though even the wetness of them seemed a small desecration. He did not venture to imitate the King's caresses, but his damp palm brushed against the Elf's bare shoulder now and again, perhaps more often than was strictly accidental. The braid was slender and very tightly wound, and it took several long minutes to reach and untangle the top of it. Legolas was patient, though; Jack glanced frequently at his face, but his slight smile of contentment did not change. The task done, Jack dared an experimental touch to the tip of the ear on his side, and was rewarded with a sultry glance from beneath the Elf's unexpectedly dark lashes. However, Legolas merely said, "The back is easier," and presented the back of his head, where the bulk of his hair was caught up in a large, swirling knot, no challenge to a sailor. Jack pulled away his hands and heard his own breath catch a little as Legolas' hair cascaded and billowed down like a golden sail catching the wind.

The Elf turned to him with the mischief back in his eyes. "Your turn now," he said.

"You'll mind the trinkets?"

"Of course." Aragorn had already thought of that, and brought a small bowl to hold them as they were disentangled from the black, clumped weave that was Jack's hair.

"Thank ye, Strider," said Jack, not for the first time appreciating the man's quiet thoughtfulness.

Legolas' hands were deft and swift, and he expressed no dismay at the tarry mess that Jack, in the manner of sailors everywhere, used to keep his hair out of sight and out of mind - indeed, the Elvish soap with the plentiful addition of water was remarkably efficacious against both tar and grime. Legolas handed each bead, pebble and miscellaneous small object to Jack as he retrieved it, and Jack solemnly rinsed each one off in the bathwater and handed it to Aragorn for safe-keeping, sometimes with a short word about where it came from, but more often with just a reminiscent smile.

"There, I think that's done now!" announced Legolas, with one last vigorous scrape of the fingertips across Jack's scalp.

Jack put his hands to his soapy hair. "I feel all light-headed!" he joked. He looked over to his treasures in Aragorn's hands. "See how a whole life can end up in one bowl."

"Nay, my friend," replied Legolas, pushing Jack gently backwards against the high side of the bath. "The life is *_here*_" - his hand pushed insistently against the pirate's scarred chest - "and those are but memories."

Jack submitted to the touch, taking in the alluring sight of the Elf, half-naked and slightly flushed from his exertions, randomly spattered with soap bubbles, and hair flying everywhere. "Remind me again why I am letting you do this to me?" asked Jack lazily.

Legolas held his gaze. "Because you are a pirate and you do what you want; you take what you please," he said meaningfully.

"Aye, that's it," muttered Jack, and without more ado, reached his hand behind the Elf's neck and pulled him into an uncompromising, lip-bruising embrace. Legolas went with him willingly, letting him control it, and when they broke apart for air, he threw his head back to allow for Jack's passionate nuzzling at his neck.

After a few moments, Jack sat back and took one of the Elf's hands in his. "I'm a greedy old pirate, you know," he said seriously.

Legolas smiled wickedly. "I'm glad of it." And the Elf reached over and rescued the bowl of trinkets from his King's hands just in time as Jack reached for Aragorn and gave him back as good as he had received on the deck of the Black Pearl.

Eventually Aragorn rested his forehead against Jack's still soapy one, and murmured, "Not a damned thing wrong with ***your*** kissing either, mate!"

"It's allowed in this country for a man to change his mind, then?" Jack muttered.

"I've never yet made a law against it," Aragorn assured him, and held him close for a second. "But first, you need to finish your bath! You're getting soap all over me!"

Legolas took that as his cue. With no more warning than "Hold your breath, Jack!" he upended the pirate in his bath, dunking his head fully under the water. Jack's legs came flying ungracefully up and out at the other end, affording Aragorn a fine eyeful.

Jack surfaced and righted himself, sputtering, cursing and grinning. "Pointy-eared devil!" he shouted happily, and splashed Legolas thoroughly for his trouble. The Warrior Elf merrily joined battle, and ere long there was water everywhere, most particularly on a certain monarch who had the sheer cheek to sit and laugh at them both.

Aragorn threw up his hands in surrender and went off to shed his sodden clothes as Legolas offered his hand to pull Jack out of the bath. Jack hesitated for just a second.

"What is the matter, Jack?"

"Ah, it's nothing, Legolas."

"Nay, tell me what troubles you."

Jack wrapped the proffered towel around himself and confessed, "I'm still seeing double when I look at you." He bit his lip.

"Understandable, if we're as alike as you say."

"You're very different as well."

"How?" Legolas was intrigued.

"Will's not nearly as… as self-assured and smooth around the edges."

"You mean he wouldn't have ducked you without asking?" Legolas grinned.

"Oh yes, twice as hard - and then apologized very, very earnestly afterwards."

"Hah," said Legolas, pulling Jack's towel adroitly away and wrapping himself around Jack's back in its stead, getting no remonstrance when he roved both hands across the pirate's flat stomach. "And how else are we different?" he enquired in Jack's ear, in a reasonable facsimile of Jack's own accent. Apparently, it was close enough to Will's as well, for Jack shuddered in his arms.

"You really *are* a devil," he muttered.

"Answer my question," urged the Elf, watching hungrily over Jack's shoulder as Aragorn finished stripping and drying himself off.

"You smell different," Jack told him. "Alike but different."

"How?"

"As if he had left his smithy behind and gone for a long walk in the forest."

"Aye, that's my Greenleaf," agreed Aragorn, reaching both his forearms round Legolas' shoulders and imprisoning Jack as tightly from the front as he was from the rear.

"Now, pirate," he said. "You are our guest tonight, so what is your will?"

Jack had little coherent thought left, sandwiched as he was within their evident desire. His hand wandered, of its own volition, down Aragorn's flank, and he craned slightly upward to meet the grey eyes, needing to judge the acceptability of the notion that now enflamed him.

"To be able to brag for the rest of my life that I've had a King - that's what I'd like." And though that was bold enough, he fooled none of them, not even himself, with his half-request.

"And to have been had by his Consort at the same time." Aragorn finished his thought for him.

"Aye," breathed Jack, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Then we are all in accord," said Legolas, again in *that* voice.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't, Legolas," he beseeched. "Be yourself. By all that's holy, do not be anything other than your own fair self - 'tis more than enough…"

"Very well," conceded Legolas in his own tones, sounding almost disappointed. He brought one hand up to Jack's forehead. "But be assured, what happens in here wrongs no-one." He smiled slyly at Aragorn and slid his hand back down the front of Jack's body. "Nor what happens here." He was rewarded by a pair of simultaneous gasps.

"In a hurry, are we, Elf?" asked Aragorn roughly. "Come on then!" And he led them to the enormous four-poster, and dropped the curtains around them so that they inhabited their own hot, cushioned world. No sooner had he tweaked the last curtain into place than he was seized by four impatient hands and brought to his back on the pillows.

…

A few minutes later, only vaguely aware of two other cries of pleasure, Jack arched back his head and fell over a very high cliff, falling and falling to land safely and ashamed upon the King's breast. Jack knew which name he had gasped as he had fallen, and he knew whose pointy ears would not have failed to hear.

He was gently rolled to one side, and as Aragorn and Legolas enwrapped themselves for a moment in a tender kiss, he had time to taste the full bitterness of his shame. But the two faces that turned to him then had no accusation upon them. "No-one is wronged," Legolas reminded him quietly.

"I knew this would happen," Jack muttered. "Knew it from the moment I saw ye."

"Promise me one thing, then, if you would make amends," said the Elf.

"What?"

"That when you get home, you will go to him once and ask for what you desire. Ask just once, Jack." Jack hesitated. "Do I have your word?" the Elf pressed.

"Aye, you have my word on it," the pirate promised reluctantly.

"Do not put it off," Legolas told him sternly. "I was a fool. I waited five long years to ask, five years that I could have spent with the two people I love …" - he closed his eyes briefly in pain, and amended - "loved most in this world." Aragorn stroked his Elf's hair but held his peace.

"I doubt…" Jack shook his head.

"I know. Ask anyway. Ask the bossy lass too - she may already know what he wants better than he knows himself."

Jack's lips quirked with great affection at the thought of Lizzie Swann. "She may at that," he conceded. He reached a hand to stroke the Elf's forearm, thanking him silently. "It will not work," he told him. "Happy endings are only for fairy-tale worlds like this one you inhabit. But I will ask anyway, I promise."

Legolas lay back on the pillows and gathered the pirate to his right shoulder and the King to his left. "Will you sleep for a while?" he asked as they settled themselves comfortably. And, not surprisingly, they did.

/-/-/-/

Jack awoke at dawn to the sound of soft laughter and whispering in Elvish. He was alone in the big bed, which was now open to the first rays of the rising sun.

"Ah, there you are," said Aragorn, crossing the room to lie beside him. "How d'ye fare this morning?"

Jack stretched experimentally. He felt very good, very good indeed. "No noticeable scars," he joked.

"Good, for I'm not sure you have any place to put another one," Aragorn told him, as Legolas joined them on Jack's other side.

The Elf ran a finger along a jagged line that crossed Jack's thigh. "What was this one?" he asked.

"That was a shark - a bloody great fish with enormous teeth," Jack told him. "Luckily he wasn't hungry that day, or I'd be hobbling on a peg leg."

Aragorn winced. "And this one?" He had found a curiously precise pair of short, crossed lines at the centre of Jack's chest.

"Ah, that was a woman as did that. A strange woman, a kind of witch, who did me a great favour once. She said it was to put me in mind of her, so I'd come back and see her. It burns a bit every now and again, almost as if she's calling me, but I'd as soon stay away." He shuddered.

"What about this one?" Legolas asked, touching a long clean line that ran diagonally across Jack's left side.

"Oh aye, that was a nasty wound - nearly killed me, that one. It was a scimitar - long, wicked curved blade. That'll teach me to go wandering in a desert where I don't belong. Mind you, there was a bonny Arab boy with big dark eyes who might have made it all worthwhile…" Jack touched the scar reminiscently, and rolled over slightly so Legolas could see how it travelled round his side.

"Your back is almost unmarked," Legolas commented. He had noticed the night before, and wondered.

"Aye, it seems your King's hands heal old wounds as well as new," smiled Jack.

"Would you like me to tackle these as well?" Aragorn asked, running an appraising hand across Jack's chest.

"Nay, I'll keep them," said Jack.

"Even this one?" Legolas was touching the painful-looking "P" brand on Jack's forearm.

"Especially that one." He turned to Aragorn and ran a forefinger across the scar on the King's left shoulder. "You understand, don't you?"

Aragorn nodded. "But if there are any that give you pain…"

Jack considered, and then indicated his left calf. "I had a bullet wound here once that never healed quite aright. It aches somethin' awful sometimes."

"Then that will be my parting gift to you," said Aragorn, a little sadly.

And so it came about that Jack found himself once more in a chair with the heady scent of _athelas_ in the air, and Aragorn's patient fingers burning their healing through his flesh. When it was accomplished, Aragorn pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and Legolas, standing ready, caught him as he stumbled and helped him to a chair of his own. The Elf looked back and forth between the two men, and said suddenly, "I have a present for you too, Jack!" Then he hesitated. "You don't mind, Estel?"

"No indeed," said Aragorn. "You know I have always thought it was an astonishing coincidence that you chose that particular jewel in Edhellond."

Legolas gave a wry smile. "I have stopped believing in coincidence where Mithrandir is involved." He stepped over to his pack and rummaged around, pulling out a small box.

"For you, Jack," he said. "We can put it in your hair if you like, when we restore your treasures."

Jack opened the box to see a single, perfect black pearl. "By all the saints and angels!" he said, taken completely aback. The jeweller had declined to mar the pure sphere of the gem by piercing it, and instead had enclosed it in a delicate mithril filigree attached to a small, solid hoop. Jack pulled it out of the box and caressed the smooth dark surface gingerly with a fingertip. "I thank ye, Legolas," he said simply. "Will you braid it in for me?" And as the Elf chose his spot and began his dexterous entwining, the pirate added, "I swear to you only one other pair of hands will ever take it out."

/-/-/-/

"I hope he makes it safe to his ship," fretted Aragorn as he and Legolas sat at their dinner that evening.

"He has your signed Letters of Passage, more than enough money to buy any aid he needs, and a faultless sense of direction," Legolas reassured him. "He pointed out to me as he left the route he would take, and I could not have chosen better myself."

"And in any case," said Aragorn, trying to persuade himself, "you said Gandalf told you he would see Jack safely home."

"As I will," said Gandalf. Legolas and Aragorn both jumped, and Gandalf chuckled. He was sitting in a third chair at their table where no third chair had been before. "Just thought I'd get my strength up a bit," he explained to them, munching away on some illusory bread. "These manipulations of the cosmos are hard work for an old wizard."

"We have so much to thank you for, Mithrandir," Legolas said.

"Really?" asked Gandalf, seeming surprised.

"That you would go to so much trouble for us, to restore my dear liege's peace of mind…"

"Aye," put in Aragorn. "It was more than we ever could have expected, that you would bring such a fascinating and healing agent, all the way from another world..."

Gandalf cackled aloud. "You are charmingly conceited, you two!" he told them. "So you think this little adventure was all for your benefit, do you? Nay, my old friends, the Valar have care of more than just the children of Arda. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think a certain pirate ship has just left your shores, and I have a storm to blow." And he shimmered out of sight, puffing huge breaths as he did.

Legolas and Aragorn looked at each other, stunned, and then with one accord began to laugh.

/-/-/-/

"Oy! Lizzie!"

The former Elizabeth Swann, now Mrs. Will Turner, approached the foot of the Pearl's foremast and shaded her eyes as she looked up towards her husband and Captain Jack Sparrow, ensconced in the crow's-nest above.

"Aye, Jack? What is it?" she called.

"If ye're going to terrorize the men like that, wear the hat!" he called back cheerfully, and dropped his captain's hat from on high. Lizzie snatched it neatly out of the air, jammed it cockily on her head, and strutted off, very pleased indeed.

Jack felt as much as heard Will's rumbling chuckle where he sat behind - well, and all around, if truth be told - the pirate captain. "I told you you could make us both happy at once!" Will said and pulled Jack closer, if that was possible.

Jack's nose twitched. "You been bathing? With some sort of leafy soap?"

"What are you yammering on about now, you old pirate?" Jack shrugged.

Will ran his hand affectionately across the older man's hair. His fingers encountered an interesting shape.

"What's this one, Jack?"

Jack put his own hand up to discover it was the black pearl that Will had found. He leaned back against Will's shoulder. "That one? Ah, sweet William, now that's a yarn-and-a-half…"

_finis_


End file.
